Falling Lessons
by Lily Malcon
Summary: The Ninty-ninth Training Corps was where Levi Rivaille and Skena Rothschild learned to fly - the Scout Legion was where they learned to fall. Eventual Levi/OC. Set primarily in the past.
1. Chapter One: Levi, 850

Author's Note: Oh god I'm finally posting something to this account please let it not suck. Okay, now that I've gotten that out of the way, this is the beginning of a fic. Basically, I noticed Levi's age and realized that fifteen years in the Scout Legion is a pretty long time - way too long for nothing worthy of a story to have happened. So as you may have guessed, this takes place primarily in the past, although there are several flash-forwards to the present.

For the record I _have not read the manga_, so please if you review this, try to avoid spoilers for things that haven't yet been animated! Thank you!

The usual basic disclaimers apply; I do not own Attack On Titan, or any of the characters except those obviously made up by me.

* * *

_**Levi, 850**_

For the first few days after arriving back at the Old Scout Headquarters, no one could sleep.

It wasn't the first time an expedition had ended in disaster. In fact, as far as things went, they'd seen worse returns. But no one liked to turn back after less than a day in the field. They didn't complete their objective. The female Titan had slipped through their fingers. It felt like a failure, because it was a failure.

The Old Headquarters was silent in the night. Summer's breath was beginning to fade, a touch of lingering chill creeping in, suggestive of the coming autumn. The castle seemed to tense in the still air, the kind of quiet that comes only when the entire regiment was only trying to sleep.

And beneath the smothering dark, Captain Levi Rivaille patrolled the halls like a ghost.

The watch was hardly necessary, this deep behind Wall Rose, but Levi detested the feeling of simply lying in bed without being able to sleep. He knew that this would keep up for the next day or so, before the Regiment collapsed from exhaustion and finally knew the sweet release of oblivion. It would be easier after that. It always was. Time would heal their gashes, their bruises, his broken leg. The wounds always closed eventually.

Well. Most wounds.

When he came to the roof, he was almost surprised to find himself there, but he stopped his rounds anyway, leaning on the stone wall at the edge to take the pressure off his bad leg. The moon was new, leaving the stars out in force. Some of the religious in the city claimed that the stars were loved ones lost, but Levi knew better. There were too many - surely, too many people who had died to be held by the sky. He'd known too many of them.

A little breeze kicked up and then faded, carrying a cold caress across his neck that raised goosebumps on his arms beneath his jacket. Autumn. It would be here within the month, two if they were lucky.

_I love this time of year._

He heard her voice like an echo on the breath of the breeze.

_I've never understood why things are at their most beautiful just as they begin to die._

He hadn't been able to resist writing the letter that now rested warmly in the pocket of his jacket. He knew she wouldn't want to see him; she never did. But she'd never neglected to answer a letter, either.

Maybe one day, she'd let him hear her voice for real, instead of the revenants born of sleep deprivation. He wondered if it still sounded like it did before. Perhaps he was as heartless as they said, but he didn't want the last thing he heard from her to be cursing him.

A scuff of leather on stone. The sound of breathing. These were not in his imagination, he knew.

"I know you're there," he said calmly, though his eyes didn't leave the stars.

"I know." The voice was a warm, kind contralto, though he wasn't used to hearing it so quiet and hoarse.

Hanji hopped up to sit on the low wall, legs swinging gently. She'd foregone her jacket, just wearing the undershirt and pants of their standard uniform. "Can't sleep?"

"No. No one can," he said, looking at her. Her arms were crossed, her hands grasping her upper arms. Behind her glasses, heavy circles surrounded her eyes. "Will you be all right, Hanji?"

"Eventually," she said. "How's your leg?"

He glanced down at his left leg; the sight of it set his teeth on edge. They'd set it and put it in a cast; it had been a clean break in his lower leg. He would be out of action until it healed. At first, they'd tried to get him to use a crutch, but the medics were scared enough of him to let him get away with only using a cane. Even that was an almighty pain in his neck.

"Stiff," he said. "But otherwise fine."

"You should still be on bedrest with it."

"Not a chance."

For a long while, they sat in silence. Before long, the soft chill seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt and she began to shiver. Levi took off his jacket and laid it around her shoulders before she could protest. He didn't mind. The little touch of cold awakened his senses, the hint of pain bringing reality into sharp relief.

"Thanks," she said quietly, hugging it tightly to herself. With a start, she drew the letter from the inner pocket. "Is this going out tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Skena," she murmured, reading the name on the envelope. It held a Capital address beneath. "I didn't know you still wrote to her."

"I do."

"Me too."

Not many things surprised Levi, but that gave him a hint of pause that even she noticed.

"Not very often," she said. "But...but when I can. If you're sending a runner, do you think he can carry mine too?"

"I don't see why not. It'll be sent first thing."

"Good," she said, putting the letter back into the jacket and bringing her knees up to her chest, perched at the inner edge of the wall.

Another silence.

"I wish she were here," she said.

"I know."

"She'd know what to say."

"I know."

He looked at her, and saw the tears glistening in her eyes. "It's always been a numbers game. W-we're the only ones left in the Scout Regiment, Levi, from the Ninety-ninth. The rest are in the Capital or they died at Shigansina or Trost. Which of us will be the one to outlive the rest?"

_Skena will be_, Levi thought, but didn't say it aloud._ She will be, or what I did will be for nothing._

Instead, he took her hand, and said, "I don't know."

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping away her tears with her free hand. "It just...god, it never gets easier. It hurts just as much every time."

"It should never be easy," Levi said, squeezing her hand so hard she winced. "It hurts because they lived, because they mattered, and because humankind won't survive without people like them. Don't ever let anybody tell you it shouldn't be hell to move on from this."

Hanji nodded, but more tears rolled down from behind her glasses. She gripped his hand tighter and a sob ripped through her chest, breaking the floodgate. "I hate this. This part. It's because of me. I just wanted to learn things to help people to _keep_ from dying and n-now - now we - _your squad_, Levi, it's my fault - and Eren will be sent back to be given to people who never want him to see the light of day - If we'd tried to kill the female Titan instead of capture her -"

He released her hand and took her by the shoulders, hard.

"Then a lot more people would be dead," he said. "You know that. There's time to mourn yet. Get some sleep, Hanji."

"B-but -"

"_Sleep_, Zoe," he said, his voice turning hard and formal. She flinched to hear it, but he still added, "That's an order. I'll send the runner in the morning for your letter."

"Yes, sir," she said, pulling a weak salute and breaking away from him.

He could still hear her sniffling halfway down the stairs. But sometimes, people had to cry to feel better. The truth didn't come to those who never hurt.

Levi had learned from trainers, yes - but pain was his best teacher. Pain, and Erwin Smith.

Pain, and Erwin Smith, and Skena Rothschild.


	2. Chapter Two: Skena, 850

**Author's Note:** Holy jeez, this chapter turned out a lot longer than I'd intended. I actually wrote it twice; the first draft came out really rambly and didn't have any direction, so I rewrote it and now it's not as bad as it was. Having said that, it's still a little rambly and mostly exposition.

EDIT: Episode 23 came out just after this chapter went up; as a result, I had to make a few tweaks, but mostly it's the same.

* * *

_**Skena, 850**_

When the messenger, a Scout runner named Kohl, came to her before the Commander-in-Chief, bearing three letters, she knew that something had gone very wrong.

"Wait, Kohl," she told him as he'd turned to leave. "These aren't...their _letters_, are they?"

"No, ma'am," he said, dropping the formality of the delivery for the moment. "They're not...not _those_ letters. These were written by the senders' own hands, not two days ago at the Old Headquarters. I swear it on my honor."

She nodded, then looked down at the envelopes in her hand, felt the thickness of them. She drew a deep breath. "How bad?"

"Not as bad as it could have been," he said, with a wry sort of optimism. "But...but bad, ma'am. Bad enough."

She thanked him and sent him on his way to Zacklay, with a few coins for his trouble. A pang of guilt ran through her; she should have asked after the wounded, or gotten the number of casualties at least. Instead, she'd only focused on those precious three, her commander and her onetime companions. _Selfish old girl_, she thought, as she walked through the little house into her bedroom and sat at her writing desk.

After four years out of the field – god, had it been so long? – Lieutenant Skena Rothschild knew the sequence for reading these letters. Erwin's first.

The commander laid out the report of what happened in much the same way as he wanted her to report it to Zacklay. He added special emphasis to the fact that the mission was very nearly successful, and only failed due to unforeseen circumstances. The trap had worked; they would have caught the female Titan, had it not been for her ace in the hole.

Regardless, casualties were heavy. Erwin had included the list of names with his letter. As far as sheer numbers went, Kohl had been right; this wasn't as bad as some of the more disastrous expeditions they'd seen. But those taken out were key players, and that made things more complicated. No less than four squad leaders had been killed, and a good deal of veterans, who had stepped in to protect the newer recruits. Levi's squad had been wiped out entirely, except for Eren Jaeger and Levi himself.

The letter ended with a few more addenda to make sure reached the Commander-in-Chief's ears, most of it about Jaeger. She was to stress how compliant the boy had been, how willing to participate in the experiments, and – this, he wrote, was most important – how he'd only triggered his Titan transformation when his life was obviously in danger, just as they'd ordered. Still, they could hardly leave it to Skena alone; he and his officers had been summoned to the Inner District with Jaeger, but because some were wounded, they couldn't come as fast as they otherwise would have. He would send Hanji on ahead with her squad.

Hanji's letter came next.

From the start, it was clear that she blamed herself for the mission going the way it did. If they'd gone for the kill instead of capture, if they'd known more about the female's capabilities before going in, if they'd performed more rigorous tests on their own human Titan - a million hypothetical outcomes peppered Hanji's thin, frantic script.

And most of all, she expressed worry over Eren Jaeger. This was meant to be a test run for him, to see if he'd be useful to humankind after all. The horrific failure of the mission didn't speak well to his potential use as a human weapon. Now she feared the worst, that he would be given up to the Military Police to do with as they saw fit – and everyone knew what that meant.

Skena knew more than enough about that particular can of worms; as the Scouting Legion's representative in the Capital, it was she who arranged the hearing to decide his fate, who suggested a strategy to Erwin after his meeting with Dot Pixis. Gambits had always been her specialty.

And that was why she had been there, silent and watching a few rows behind Erwin, when Levi kicked and brutalized Carla Jaeger's helpless son until his blood scattered like paint across the flagged stone of a royal courtroom. Eren did not know her name, but she was still an accomplice to some of his suffering.

It was not an unfamiliar role for her; she'd been filling it, in one capacity or another, for four years now.

She shook that thought from her head – for the moment, at least – and moved on to the last letter, from Levi.

Another report of his own to add to the collective truth. In his smooth, neat handwriting, he laid out in detail what had happened over page after page of report. Unlike Erwin, he spared her no information, although it was a clinical analysis.

Clinical - but then, at the end, he began to talk about his squad.

His second in command, Erd, had a lover in town and kept a level head despite everything Levi had thrown at him. Gunter had just reached the first anniversary of his graduation from Training Corps. Auruo, with his imitation of Levi in everything from his speech to his cravat, was the eldest of six siblings.

And Petra Ral had loved him as a student loves their favorite teacher. She had never expressed doubt in him. An exemplary soldier, with the compassion of a medic and the blade of a warrior.

"They were all hand-chosen by me. There were no finer soldiers in this Regiment."

_He's shaken_, Skena thought. _More than shaken, he's devastated. He's crumbling_.

The thought of it sent a strange stab of pain through her chest, a little constriction of her heart that made her right hand clench on the desk. Then she flinched and gasped, feeling the same sensation magnified on her left as though something had contorted painfully. She hated it when this happened. It reminded her, more than anything, of what she'd lost.

Getting up from her desk, she went into a cupboard by her wardrobe and pulled out a wooden box. One half of it was a simple frame, the inside fully visible. The other half was closed off, with only a hole where her arm could go in. Between them was a mirror.

On the open side, Skena placed her right hand. On the closed half, she rested the end of the stump where her left arm terminated about halfway between the elbow and where her wrist had once been.

Starting with her right hand in a fist, she looked into the little mirror. From the angle, it looked just like her nonexistent left hand. The visual trick had been Hanji's stroke of brilliance three years ago, the box itself made by a member of her squad.

Slowly, Skena relaxed her right hand, watching the reflection do the same. When it was fully relaxed, she clenched it again and repeated the motion. Gradually, she felt her phantom left hand relax, the mirror tricking her brain into believing it was there and could be controlled.

"Elsa," she called softly.

The young handmaiden appeared only moments later. "Yes, my lady?"

"A contingent from the Scouting Legion will be arriving in the city within the next two days," she said. "I'd like you to take a few messages to them when they arrive."

"Of course," Elsa said with a little curtsey; quietly, she added, "Will the Commander be joining them, my lady?"

"He will. Hanji's party is arriving first, but Commander Smith should be less than a week behind her," Skena said, not missing the way the girl's cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. "One of the messages will be going to him."

_And yes, he's whole and hale and probably as beautiful as ever, but he's too old for you, child. And you don't want a soldier._

Skena blinked at her own thoughts; was she such an old woman, that she nearly said something like that? It certainly made her feel even older when she remembered that Elsa was twenty-three last month, hardly a child. In fact, she was in the very bloom of womanhood, exceedingly lovely in the soft way that only came from a safe life behind Wall Sina. She was all golden ringlets and ivory skin, with the delicate bone structure which marked the nobility. Her most striking feature was her eyes, to be sure; they were cyan, true cyan, of a kind that reminded Skena of the skies outside the walls at the height of summer. The kind of blue that hurt when you looked at it too long.

Shaking such silly things from her head, she said, "The other two will be going to Hanji Zoe and Levi Rivaille."

"C-Captain Levi, my lady?" Elsa blurted, the blood rushing in quite the opposite direction now, away from her face.

"All you have to do is hand him the letter and leave," Skena said. "If you'd like, you can even give his letter to Hanji instead. It may even be preferable, since she'll be arriving ahead of time."

"Will Miss Zoe be making a visit during their time here?" The handmaiden's smile was hopeful; not for the first time, she was showing just how different she was from what Skena had lived with for so long. Elsa wore her emotions plain on her face.

"Yes, I hope so. The note you bring to her will be inviting her for tea. Hopefully she can do that before we need to address the more serious matters - or worse, she gets summoned back to the Commander, which I suspect may happen. I'll give the messages to you when they're done. That will be all, Elsa."

"Very good, my lady," Elsa said. With a curtsey, she left the room.

Just like the process of reading them, the process of responding to the letters was also something Skena had gotten down to a routine. First, she wrote a short note to be delivered to Hanji, inviting her over at her earliest convenience. Hanji needed some quiet time with a friendly face; that was clear from her letter.

Next, she wrote a message for Erwin confirming that she had understood the letter and that she would be giving the report to Zacklay as soon as he would give her audience. Those two were always the easiest letters.

In this, as in most things, Levi was different. She would write two letters for him, but he would only receive one.

The first would be written tonight, by the light of a candle. Skena had never liked the dark; not now, after all the things she'd done that were so eager to come and haunt her. When the silent walls of her bedroom stood in judgment and her heart felt like a hole in the center of her chest that made her gasp for air as though she were drowning, when the only thing she wanted in this entire world was the touch of another human being to let her know that she wasn't alone, not yet, not completely, she would write that first letter.

And she would put everything she truly wanted to say into it. _I'm still here,_ she would write. _We're still a team as long as I draw breath. This is not your fault. Stay strong. Keep fighting. I'll keep fighting too._

_I miss you. I forgive you._

After that letter was written, she would fold it and seal it, and it would go into a small, ornate box in a safe to which only she had the key. In that box was four years' worth of darkness, locked away where no one would ever see it.

Then, she would go to bed. In the morning, she would write the true letter, the one that would go to him. She would still say that it wasn't his fault, and to stay strong. Perhaps she would tell him a little of the strategies she was formulating, under Erwin's orders, to free Eren Jaeger, even if it was a long shot at this point.

Until then, there was nothing to do but wait.

Hanji wasted no time in accepting the invitation; the Scouts' horses were barely cooled down from the ride when she knocked on Skena's door. When Elsa led her into the small drawing room, she struck a salute with a grin.

"I'm glad you came," Skena said, returning the smile just a little.

"Me too," Hanji said. The women sat down.

"Tea?" Skena offered. Hanji hesitated.

"I...don't suppose you might have something a little stronger?"

She smiled. "Elsa, be a dear and bring up some of the whiskey from the cellar."

After a little bit of idle chat and whiskey, Hanji sighed. "I've just been thinking about the past so much lately. And then this comes up, and...I don't know."

"What caused you to start remembering so much?"

"Eren Jaeger," she said. "And his friends. Maybe I'm just an old lady, but...damn it all if they don't remind me of us at that age. Have you met them?"

"Only Ackerman," Skena said. "Bright girl, but very quiet. Jaeger is another story. In the courtroom he seemed very..."

"Passionate? Determined? A little bit trigger-happy?" Hanji said, smiling softly. "Just like you, when you were that age. And Mikasa, she's got the focus and the skill. She learns like lightning, and she's a natural in the 3DM."

"Sounds like Levi."

"Just like Levi. Maybe they'd be great friends, if he wasn't so..."

"So Levi."

"Yes, that's what I was looking for."

"And Arlert?"

"Armin? He only wants to see outside the wall. Fire mountains and the great salt sea."

"My, my," Skena said, taking another sip of whiskey and giving Hanji a little smirk. "That _does_ sound like someone I know."

Hanji smiled. "He's a sweet boy." Slowly, her smile faded. "Maybe this will sound bad, but...I hope they don't turn out like us. Or dead. I don't know if I could bear seeing them wasted."

"It doesn't sound bad," Skena said quietly. "We're not young anymore, Hanj. We couldn't have kids of our own; all we have are the cadets. We want a better life for them, that's all."

"Don't I know it. I feel older every day," Hanji said. Then she asked, "Did Erwin tell you the exact location of the forest where we set the trap?"

Skena sipped at her whiskey and shook her head; she hadn't expected the topic of the mission to be brought up, willingly, so soon. "No, he didn't."

"It was four kilometers outside of Marmion Village. The old-growth forest with the little shacks by the path at the treeline."

It took a moment for the information to process and for Skena to realize just where that was. "You're joking."

"I wish I was. I...I wanted my only memories of that place to be happy."

"I know," she said. "Did Levi recognize it too?"

"Definitely. He didn't tell me, but..." Hanji suddenly gave a little chuckle.

"What?"

"Eren told me that when they first got into the forest, Levi ordered him to look at all the big-ass trees."

The laugh burst from her chest before Skena had a chance to stop it. Hanji pointed and laughed at her, which made Skena laugh some more, putting her glass down to place a hand over her mouth to try to stifle it. Fifteen years lay between then and now, but she swore she could still hear the voice of that brash fool Sigmund, laughing too.

"Do you remember," Hanji said, "how when we first got there that night, Emil had still never seen a Titan – he'd had that broken ankle when we took the trip to Wall Maria – and he asked if they were as tall as those trees –"

"So we told him they were," Skena said, chuckling softly. She shook her head. "The look on his face. We were bad, bad people."

"He didn't even know we were lying until his first expedition," Hanji managed to say between gasps of laughter.

"Remember how Dietrich and Levi had a race, and Dietrich was so drunk he crossed Levi's line and –" For the first time in a very long time, Skena was unable to finish her sentence because of the quiet laughter in her chest.

"And they got tangled and went barreling into that clearing!" Hanji finished for her. "We thought they were dead!"

"Thought Levi had killed him, more like. I'm still amazed they both walked away."

"We were drunk and young," she said. "And finally out of training. We were Scout Legion. Nothing could hurt us." After a little pause, she added, "I never saw Levi smile as much as he did that night."

"I know."

"He doesn't smile much at all anymore."

"I know." Skena took a long drink of her whiskey.

Hanji sighed and slid her glasses a little higher on her nose. "Will...will you ever forgive him, Skena?"

"I don't know."

"You forgave me."

"You didn't do what he did."

"No, but I held you down."

"I don't want to talk about this again, Hanji. Not now." _Not half-drunk, with the names of our dead friends still fresh on our lips._

"I know. I'm sorry," she said. "I just...it's so hard, without you. It's hard for him too, but he doesn't show it."

"He never did."

"Do you think..." Behind her glasses, Skena could see the blur where tears were forming in Hanji's eyes. "...that it would ever be the same? If you did forgive him, or if Erwin let you back in the field...would it ever be like it was?"

There was a long silence. The candlelight flickered between them like a warm light of hope.

"Maybe," Skena lied. Hanji smiled, and nodded, and it was clear that she believed her.

The years in the city had made her a coward after all. But the lie was so much kinder than the truth, hurt so much less, that for a moment she almost – almost, god help her – believed it, too.


	3. Chapter Three: Skena, 832

**Author's Note:** This chapter was actually meant to be much longer, but then I realized that if I fit everything I wanted to into it, it would be waaaay too long and take weeks and weeks to write. So, I'm splitting up their training into more than the two chapters I had originally intended. I hope you guys can forgive me if it seems to drag on, but splitting it up allows me to add more detail where it's needed and skip the stuff that doesn't need to be fleshed out.

* * *

_**Skena, 832**_

It was clear from the very beginning that her family did not believe she would make it through training.

After all, she didn't look like a military sort. At thirteen she still looked like ten, small and slight, a fine, delicate bone structure hidden by a soft layer of stubborn baby fat. Her skin was ivory, her eyes gray, and her hair so red it shone like copper in the sun. They were the tokens of her heritage; there was no doubt that the family was rooted in the North, where folk said fairies and elves still dwelt in the dikes and frozen nymphs came out in the winter.

Skena Rothschild had never seen a fairy or a nymph. As the only daughter of Waldemar Rothschild, Lord Paramount of the Northern territories, she'd never gotten much of a chance to roam; most of her life was spent in the Inner District.

It was a tradition for the noble families to send one or two of their children to train with the military, but it was quickly moving out of style, now more than ever. When she told her father of her intention, he applauded her politely, but made sure she knew that there was no shame if she didn't make it through training.

_Yes there is_, she thought. _I will not be less than perfect. I will not._ She had been practicing even before then, when she was alone, trying to build up her strength in preparation. She was happiest in the mornings afterward, when she felt her muscles glowing with the soreness that assured their slow growth.

Her father hadn't been there to see her off to the boat which would take her to Trost and her training. But Oberon, her cousin and heir to the title, had made it out, and stood with Mother on the pier with her.

"Don't worry," Oberon had told her, finally, before she'd gotten on the boat. "They don't know about northern resolve. You'll have them shaking in their boots."

She'd had always had a knack for telling when people were lying.

And now, it was their first day of training. After breakfast in the mess hall, they'd been arranged alphabetically in the yard by a woman in a Garrison uniform. That was when the whispers had started; Skena could hear them. The commoners resented nobility, who lived in the interior where they were assured to be safe. It didn't matter that the walls hadn't been breached in eighty years or more; the knowledge was there, that if it did happen, the border people were the first to go. There would be no mercy for her here; they, like her family, didn't expect her to stay long.

The first thing that the woman in uniform taught them was a proper salute. Arms in, elbow touching your side, fist over your heart, thumb out, wrist cocked. Off hand behind your back, slanted with your knuckles touching your right hip. It wasn't so bad.

"Memorize the people around you," the woman said. "This is standard roll call formation, and we will not be teaching it to you again. Now, wait here at attention."

Then she left. How long had it been? An hour? More?

If they wanted to make assumptions about her, then the only way she could fight back was to prove them wrong. She held her salute firmly even as she could feel her hand going numb and the rest of the recruits around her had begun to pant and drop their aching arms. It was only spring, but summer's heat had come early this year. She could feel a stinging on her cheekbones and knew that this Southern sun would have no mercy on her pale complexion.

Skena glanced to her left and right. To her left, there was a boy maybe a year older than her – children from twelve to fifteen were accepted into Training Corps – with blond close-cropped hair and warm brown eyes. Schaeffer was his name, she remembered from when they were organizing. Emil Schaeffer.

To her right, a solemn boy held a salute even more resolutely than she did. He was small, even smaller than Skena, black-haired and a little underfed. He looked across the field at the other recruits with sharp, dark blue eyes, before finally his head turned just a little to glance sidelong at Skena.

"_What part of stand at attention did you little bastards not understand?!_"

As one, the corps startled and renewed their salutes as the speaker strode onto the yard, through the rows of recruits. He was a hard-looking type, and although his hair was more than half gray, his posture easily rivaled those of the younger men. His eyes were green and cruel as they swept over the children.

"Well, let's see," he said finally, coming to a stop at the head of the company. His voice boomed over them so that they could all hear it. "There's the gods of the Walls and the sky and the earth...and then there's whatever the hell they do in the North. You see, I'm just not sure who to pray to in order to save us from the Titans, 'cause it sure as hell _isn't going to be this piss-poor lot_! Now, my name is Carl Eisen, and for the next three years, I'm your worst nightmare.

"You!" he singled out a small blonde girl near the front and walked over to stand in front of her. "Just who are you?"

"Lorel Adler from Brelsen, sir!" the girl squeaked.

"Brelsen is in the West, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir! Forty kilometers outside Chlorba District!"

"I don't give a fuck how close it is to Chlorba. Why is there dirt on your uniform, Adler?"

"I-I tripped on the dormitory stairs, sir!"

"Adler, it is day one. If you can't learn how to use the legs god gave you, how do you expect to keep humanity safe?"

"I d-don't know, sir!"

"Horse-fucking Westerners, why do we bother with you?" Eisen snapped, before rounding on another cadet, this one a few spaces down the line. "Name!"

"Sigmund Casimir, from Stohess District, sir!"

"Casimir, that is one dumbass-looking face you've got there. Who was your daddy, a goddamn goat?"

"He was a herdsman, sir!"

"Oh, so it was your mama who was the goat! My mistake, Casimir – now maybe if you try real, real hard, then in three years you will be fit to hand over to the Scouting Legion to use as Titan bait! How does that sound, Casimir?"

"Sounds good, sir!"

"Goddamn right."

On it went. Every few soldiers got the treatment. Occasionally, a cadet that was passed would breathe a sigh of relief only for Eisen to come back and round on them. Finally, he came to the back half of rows, stopping first at a broad-shouldered mountain of a boy with tousled, sandy hair.

"Name."

"Micah Pfeifer, sir!"

"And why are you here, Pfeiffer?"

"I want to defend the Walls in the name of God, sir!"

"Well bless my soul," Eisen boomed. "We got a live one here, don't we? You believe in God, you worm?"

"With all my heart, sir!"

"And you believe the Walls are from God?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! Then when you wash out like the scrub you are, maybe you can become a priest and be of use to somebody for once!"

Instead of going across the row, this time Eisen went straight back, to a girl who looked as though she was trying very hard not to burst with something to say. She was already starting to grow her arms and legs looking a little too long for her body. Her hair was dark brown, tied back so that only her bangs fell around her wide brown eyes.

"Hanji Zoe, sir!" she said brightly, not waiting to be asked. "From Beleg!"

"Did I tell you to give me your name, cadet?"

The girl called Hanji hesitated. "No, sir, but I thought you might want to know it anyway, sir!"

"And why are you here, Early Zoe?"

"I want to join the Scouting Legion to see outside the Walls, sir, to help humanity take it back!"

It was as though she'd hit him. A ripple of murmurs broke out across the yard. Even the solemn boy next to Skena made a little _tch_ sound.

"Well, every village needs an idiot," Eisen said, probably knowing that nothing could damn the Zoe girl as much as her own mouth just had.

The next person he stopped in front of was Skena.

"Now if you don't look like a little Northern fairy, I don't know what does! What's your name, fairy?"

"Skena Rothschild, sir!" she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Here, in the shadow of this large instructor and under his cruel gaze, it felt like the air itself had become harder to breathe.

"Rothschild? A little princess, then! What are you doing here?"

"I want to make my family proud, sir!" she blurted.

"Well that's a damn shame, Fairy Princess, because you sure as hell ain't gonna make it in this army!"

Much like when Hanji had been called, Skena could hear the whispers begin around her. _Lord's daughter_, she heard. _What's she doing here?_ The ones who hadn't known before certainly knew now; there would be no anonymity for her here. The only consolation was that she suspected that there would be none for anyone else, either.

Not even for the black-haired boy to her right, to whom Eisen had already moved on. "Now who the fuck are you, kid?"

"Levi Rivaille," the boy said. His voice was as solemn as his face, not even raising under the instructor's scrutiny.

"I do believe that is the single stupidest name I've heard in all my days. Was your bitch of a mama too drunk when she was naming you, Rivaille?"

"I wouldn't know, sir."

"You lie about your age or are we recruiting runts of the litter now? How old are you, boy?"

"Fourteen, sir."

"Four – ain't no goddamn way, you miniscule little shit. I'll be looking forward to watching you wash out."

It was a simple waiting game after that. Strauss, Thorn, Vogel. The rest got their turn, or would in the coming days. Eventually, Eisen headed back to the front – but not before he stopped just once more, at a smiling boy near the front. Just before he passed, the boy caught Skena's eye and threw her a wink; that was when Eisen rounded on him.

"Who are you?"

"Dietrich Engel, from Shiganshina District, sir."

"Shiganshina, huh? So much for the bravest of humanity, if all they can send are punkasses like you. Engel, why the fuck are you smiling? Have I done something to amuse you?"

"I'm just happy to be here, sir."

"Bullshit. Do you have a crush on me? Do you think I'm pretty, Engel? You want to dance with me?"

"I wouldn't sully your maidenly virtue in such a way, sir."

The first act that the 99th Training Corps did as one cohesive team was tremble with the communal effort of holding in laughter.

* * *

"Is Engel still running?" someone asked, as the majority of the Corps filed into the mess hall. The sun was just sinking down over the western edge of the Wall. Skena held back, watching where everyone sat down, and with whom.

"Yeah," the boy called Sigmund answered as he took his place at a table with his food. "I saw him on my way here. He doesn't even look tired."

"My dad says," chimed up Emil, "that it's tradition for the instructors to make one of the recruits run on the first day. It's to make an example out of them."

"Well, I don't know how successful he'll be with Dietrich," said a round-faced brunette girl with sharp eyes through a mouthful of bread. "I've never known anybody to be more of a hardheaded little fuckface."

"You know him from before?" Sigmund said.

The girl nodded. "We're both from Shiganshina. I'm Emma, by the way. Emma Lamorliere."

The rest of their conversation was lost in the din as Skena followed the flow of people to get food. Many of the recruits, she noticed, were already picking up on the casual vulgarity they'd heard in the yard during the day. Taught since birth that anything so much as an out-of-place word was tantamount to slapping someone in the face, the offhand way the rest of them spoke seemed strange to her, almost foreign entirely.

That morning, they had been relatively quiet, not mindful of who they were sitting with; now, little groups had obviously started to form. The girl called Emma stayed and talked with Sigmund, and a freckled boy named Stefano had already come to join them. At another table, Lorel Adler, the girl from Brelsen, had struck up a conversation with Emil, and Micah seemed to have a few others at his own table. Through the mess hall, it seemed as though everyone had gravitated toward a group.

Skena had not. She drifted a few steps into the hall after she'd gotten her ration, her skin alive with the feeling that everyone was watching her, even if they weren't in truth. Spotting a nearly-empty table near the back of the hall, she headed for it, seeing no other choice.

She could hear the whispers again as she passed. _Only here for pride's sake to wash out_, she heard from someone not wise enough to keep their voice down. _The little fairy_, someone muttered from somewhere else; their entire table laughed to themselves as they watched her pass by.

When she got to the table, she saw that it was already occupied, albeit by only one person.

"May I sit here?" she asked. The black-haired boy who had stood next to her on the yard looked up from the table and nodded. She sat across from him.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. For his own part, the boy didn't seem to mind sitting alone, although Skena still felt the phantom eyes on her.

"You're Rivaille, right? Levi?" she asked, grasping at something, anything, to say.

He nodded again. "And you're Rothschild."

"Yes," Skena said, even though it was not a question.

"And I'm Hanji!" a loud voice said as the tall girl from the yard sat down heavily next to Skena.

"The heretic, right?" Levi asked. There was no malice in it; his tone was decidedly neutral. Hanji Zoe didn't seem to mind either way.

"That's me," she said with a smile. "And you two are the runt and the fairy. Should be a nice few years."

Skena glanced up at Hanji's face, searching for a sign of artifice, of the derision that Eisen had shown. She found none. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Hanji laughed.

"Oh, come on," she said. "It's practically an honor to get chewed out on the first day. It means you're worth noticing. Didn't you know that?"

"No," Skena said, feeling foolish all over again.

"Lorel's the clumsy one, and Sigmund's the ugly bastard," Hanji said. "It's sort of a way of getting us all to know each other before we even talk."

"How do you know this?" Levi asked.

"Emil just told me, five minutes ago," she said through a mouthful of bread. "His whole family's military, practically. His dad's in the Military Police. I figured that this was something you guys would need to hear."

"Why?"

"So that you don't look so fucking sad, Rivaille, that's why!" she giggled. She turned to Skena and gave her tray a little push toward her. "Eat. If you don't, you'll regret it. Real training starts tomorrow."

She was right, Skena knew; she forced a bit of food through the butterflies in her stomach. But it wasn't as bad now, for some reason, with this girl talking to her. The chatter cut through the anxieties, if only a little.

"So, are there really elves and gnomes and fairies in the North?" Hanji asked, half-teasing.

"I wouldn't know," Skena said. "I've never seen one."

"Well, one day, when we're soldiers, we'll take our leave there and go hunting for unicorns!" Hanji said with a bright smile; Skena couldn't help but smile back, and the other girl gave her a nudge. "That's the spirit. Can't go through this whole thing miserable, or you'll wash out for sure."

It wasn't until they'd all gone to the dorms and the lights-out had been called that Skena realized that the other recruits were also children, some younger than her. She wasn't sure what she was hearing when the soft sobbing began in a few different corners of the room. Everyone had seemed so confident to her in the mess hall, as though she were the only one who felt out-of-place. But no one had known what to expect from this first day, except maybe Emil, thanks to his family. The rest were just as confused and lost as she was.

It was a strange sort of comfort, but it was comfort nonetheless. It gave her something in common with the other recruits, even if they never spoke of it aloud. She curled her legs up to her chest and burrowed her head into the hard, scratchy pillow.

She didn't think she would sleep, but she did.


	4. Chapter Four: Skena, 832

**Author's Note:** I just started a new job this week, so updates may be a bit more sporadic than what I've been doing so far. If it seems like I won't be able to write full, long chapters, I'll just post up a few smaller ones or work extra hard and post early!

* * *

_**Skena, 832**_

The next two months were specially designed to make the cadets feel very certain they were going to die.

The intention was to weed out the weak, Skena knew objectively, but she hated it anyway. Even later, through the tinted mental lens of nostalgia, she could never pretend that this part of training was anything but hell. She felt an utter fool for having tried to prepare before coming here; how could anything she'd done measure up?

The running was the worst. They ran in the boiling sun, and they ran in the stifling summer rainstorms, sometimes in thin undershirts and sometimes in harnesses or even, when Eisen was feeling especially sadistic, in full packs of equipment. They did calisthenics until her arms were shaking and her legs felt as though she'd collapse at any moment. They learned martial arts mostly through trial-and-error, until there was more of her that was bruised than not. The cadets were becoming very familiar with the sore agony of muscles being built from scratch; in the mornings, no movement they made was not painful.

Every night, there were more soft sobs that echoed through the dormitories. And every day, more people washed out.

On that first night, the mess hall had been full to bursting with close to six hundred recruits spread across two units. At first it was a trickle of people who gave in, nobody wanting to seem too weak to make it through at least the first few weeks. The trickle became a stream as more people gave up or, as was becoming more common, they were kicked out.

By the time the third month began, there were less than three hundred cadets left. They had been consolidated into a single unit.

Hanji was the first to call Skena friend, and she called Levi that too after some time, even if Levi would only return the gesture with a little _tch_ sound and a roll of his eyes. At first, Hanji had been hurt by it, but Skena knew better. The nobility in general all either showed too much emotion, or none at all; her parents were both paragons of the latter category, which made Levi an open book.

No one knew for sure where Levi was from – rumor had it that he had been a street rat in the city beneath Wall Sina – but despite the mystery, he was everything Skena knew; he was reserved, keeping his own counsel unless he had something important or exceptionally clever to say (and he was, she had noticed, exceptionally clever, when he wanted to be). He met efforts to get past that reserve with hostility; the inner thoughts that he kept to himself were by invitation only, not something to be pried into. He would come round, she assured Hanji. But he needed time.

Yes, Levi was easy; it was Hanji who baffled her. Hanji Zoe, with her quick smiles and habit of tossing her thoughts out aloud the minute they occurred to her. Hanji, who basked in the running that they did in a way Skena never could, who outshone the majority of the class but never seemed resented by anyone. Hanji, who was the teachers' favorite student and showed a voracious interest in anything and everything she could learn, and who didn't know how to tell a lie even if she wanted to.

Hanji, who had the bunk above Skena's and who cried herself to sleep two and a half months in.

At first, Skena had thought that it was the echo of the wind outside. The day had been brutal; they'd had to run in a summer storm that had swept in from the south with the kind of rain that was warm when it hit and did nothing to cool them down. Hanji held that it was her own two feet that had landed her in the mud; she would never admit to what Skena saw, when Micah Pfeiffer tripped her on their run.

The little gasps of sobs were quiet in the night, but there was no mistaking the movement in the mattress that meant its inhabitant was curled almost into a ball. Skena bit her lip. Sometimes girls went to comfort those who cried; more often, they pretended not to hear.

_I should go to her,_ she thought._ I should say something to help her._

But nothing would come to her mind, nothing that might sooth the soreness of the field or ease the sting of a comrade's cruelty. What use was going to her now, when all she would do was embarrass her by calling attention to her weakness?

Skena didn't move. She didn't sleep, either.

* * *

They were nearing their third month in training when she woke on her bottom bunk to a hand over her mouth.

Startled, she tried to pull back, but another hand on the back of her head held her fast. As her heart started to calm down, she began to think that maybe it was one of the girls needing a partner to walk to the bathhouse – no one liked walking the training grounds alone at night. But as she blinked herself awake and her eyes strained in the darkness, she saw that it wasn't one of the girls.

Levi took his hand from the back of her head and pressed a finger to his lips, bidding her be silent, and jerked his head toward the door. Skena got the message: _follow_. And she did.

He crept across the floor of the dorm and to the door so quietly that she was half-sure he wasn't even there at all, and she was still dreaming. Where did he learn to move so silently? Her foot hit a loose board in the floor that creaked softly; he glared back at her.

When they were outside, he turned to her and whispered, "Tomorrow they're going to start us on the harnesses."

"I heard," she said. The rumor had been going around for nearly two weeks now. The initial physical training was to root out the weak and build bodies of soldiers; this would be the first time that the cadets would be trained on an actual skill that mattered.

It was also where they would begin to be ranked.

"We're going to practice," he said, as he led her around the border of the yard, toward the tall rigs that held the suspension simulator. The moon was full and shining, but by keeping to the shadows, it was like they weren't even there.

"What? Why?" Skena asked. He didn't answer right away; instead, he stopped at a bush behind the boys' dormitory. From within the branches he drew two harnesses. When he still ignored her after they were within sight of the rigs, she grabbed his arm and hissed, "Answer me! We're just going to learn tomorrow, what's the point of this other than getting in trouble?"

He wrenched his arm from her. "Your father is a very influential man. You know they've been looking for excuses to kick you out. Do you know why?"

"Because they resent me," she said quietly.

"Wrong," he said. "Because if you're allowed to graduate and you become a soldier, you'll be placed in harm's way. Do you think Eisen wants to be the officer who sent a lord's daughter into danger? Even in the Garrison, you'll have to deal with crime and corruption."

The thought set her teeth on edge, but she bit back the curses that flew to mind; it hadn't been long enough, yet, for her to rid herself of that noble restraint.

"My father doesn't care that much," she said at last.

"Maybe that's true and maybe it's not," Levi said with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. They're going to find an excuse for you to wash out no matter what. But they can't do that if you're in the top ten."

"Why not?"

"It would look suspicious. As much as they don't want you to pass, they don't want your father bringing a case against them that they kicked you out unfairly, either."

"That sounds really stupid."

"That's because people are really stupid."

The moonlight glinted off his eyes, and for the first time, he smiled at her, a knowing flicker of a smirk.

"So what does that have to do with what we're doing?" she asked as they turned and kept heading for the rigs.

"You have to be perfect," he said. "It has to look like you don't even have to try."

When they reached the rigs, he tossed her one of the harnesses and they put them on in silence. After a moment, she said, "Why are you practicing, then?"

He looked at her for a long few seconds. His face had gone back to its normal expression. She held his gaze. _He's trying to decide whether to lie or tell the truth_, she thought. The answer would determine a great deal.

Finally, he said, "Erwin's going to be here tomorrow."

"Erwin Smith?" she asked, her eyes growing wide. "The lieutenant?"

"Yes."

Lieutenant Erwin Smith had been the top of his class in the 97th Training Corps, and among cadets, he was already a legend. He'd gone into the Scouting Legion and was known for his genius tactics, always moving at least three steps ahead of any opponent, whether it was Titans in the field or rivals for rank. He was considered a shoe-in for a command of his own, in good time.

"Wait," she said. "Do you know him?"

"Something like that," Levi said. "Get on the rig. I'll lift you up."

She itched to ask him more about Erwin Smith, but she knew that it wouldn't do her any good. He had already let her into his mind more than anyone else at this point; if she tried to push further, he would shut her out and never let her back in.

He helped her hook in her harness and make sure everything was in order before he went back to the crank which would raise the rig.

"Ready?" he asked. Skena nodded.

He began to turn the crank and she watched as the loose slack in the two ropes to her sides disappeared. When the thrum of tension in the wires jolted her and she began, slowly, to rise, her heart fluttered madly in her chest. They had been taught how to behave in the harness in the classroom, but the moment her feet left the ground she could not have recalled the instructions if her life had depended on it – she closed her eyes and all thought fled from her mind except _I'm flying. This is just like flying._

And then the ground collided with the back of her head. She opened her eyes to see the Levi, upside-down, sneering down at her and shaking his head.

"That was fucking shameful," he said, lowering her so that she could get back to her feet. "Get your head in it, Rothschild."

"Okay," she said thickly, trying to clear the dots from her vision. She stumbled to her feet and shook her head; it helped a little. "Okay, ready. Try it again."

This time, she was ready for the strange sensation of levitating, and managed to keep her head. She remembered what they'd said in the classroom; weight on one hip, pressure on the strap of the opposite foot. It was a hard position to get into, but once she did, it was simple enough to hold it.

Levi locked the winch and came around to look at her form.

"It looks okay," he said, eying her critically. "The diagrams had the off leg up higher, though, so try to lift your knee a little more."

Slowly, she did. It didn't seem to make much of a difference until she moved her arm and found that it didn't affect her as much with this configuration.

"Better," Levi said. "Try moving around a little."

Afraid of getting another knot on her head where the first blow was already practically simmering with dull pain, Skena's first movements were small, nervous.

"Here," he said, and before she could stop him, he put his hands on her hips where the belt sat, and pushed.

Half a second of sheer panic nearly made her scream at him, but instinctive balance took over and she felt herself compensating for the motion, arms coming out to balance as she swung first back and then forth again. Seeing her doing well with that, he caught her again with one hand, this time on only the right side of the belt.

She started to right herself, sputtered, struggled, and promptly fell over again.

For the next two hours, they learned through trial-and-error how to stay in the harness. Unlike Skena, Levi didn't seem to need any effort at all to grow accustomed to being off the ground; his legs seemed to know just where to go, his balance guiding him without needing to be told to. She watched jealously as he made his first movements with grace and recovered easily when she pushed him. The ill will evaporated, however, when she saw him realize his own talent and look up at her, a slow, ecstatic grin dancing across his face.

The next day, when they were called up to the rig, her body was able to remember what she'd learned and she watched with a smug satisfaction as the rest of the cadets saw her stay upright without hesitation.

A few cadets down, Hanji found her balance after a few tries as well. The shock of the training to their bodies had triggered growth spurts in several of the trainees, and her torso showed the beginnings of womanhood, but her broad, strong shoulders made her topheavy. In order to compensate, she had to have her off leg lower.

_So the textbook form isn't the only way to go about this_, Skena realized, leaning over and watching as Hanji gave a few movements and giggled. She looked over at Levi to say something to him, but stopped. He was hanging casually, almost as though he were simply standing – anyone would have thought he'd been born in the harness.

But looking closely, she could see the muscles corded under the skin of his hands, and the way his eyes occasionally flicked to the back of the crowd of cadets where several officers had gathered. One of them – who looked to be the youngest, she noticed – was tall and golden-haired, with a strong jawline and a gaze that was kind and hard at the same time. One of the older officers said something to him and he laughed, shaking his head.

She glanced back at Levi. _Who are you?_ she wanted to ask. _And who is Erwin? What are you to each other?_

But Levi had felt her eyes on him, and turned his head to look at her. Something in his gaze made her heart jolt as though she'd been caught doing something wrong, as though he knew that she was asking questions in her head. She looked away quickly and did a few idle movements in the harness. But she did not miss the look of satisfaction on Erwin's face when Levi was commended for his flawless form.

Thanks to their midnight advantage, Skena was second in the class when the rankings began.

_Not perfect,_ she thought bitterly. She felt her resolve harden in her like crystal forming. _I will be perfect._

_I will._


	5. Chapter Four and a Half: Autumn 832

**Author's Note:** This was originally meant to be a Tumblr-exclusive side chapter. However, recent events (read: my procrastination) have pushed the publish date for the next official chapter up a few days. Therefore, if you'd like to skip this chapter, you're free to; it has little bearing on the plot thus far, and has more to do with events much later.

Speaking of which, make sure to follow my Tumblr, url slytherinhouse-princess, for peeks at the writing process, exclusive side chapters, and much more! (by much more I mean dumb reblogs. Sorry.)

* * *

**_Autumn of 832_**

The targets were set. Huge wooden structures in the vague shape of humanoids loomed among the trees of the forest outside Trost, sitting on platforms attached to pulleys that could turn them. A pad of leather was strapped to the nape of the neck of each figure. The sunlight dappled through the trees, whose leaves had nearly finished changing; soon they would be bare, and winter would force these exercises to a halt until the thaw.

On an observation platform deep in the heart of the forest, nestled high up in the branches of an ancient tree, two officers stood, the dark green of their cloaks standing in sharp relief against the dusky orange of the leaves around them.

"How long do you imagine we'll have to wait?" asked one of the women, leaning back against the trunk of the tree.

"We'll soon find out. We're the furthest from the starting point, so if nothing else, we'll know who's fastest in the gear," answered the other. Her eyes, sharp and celestial blue, scanned the forest for any sign of movement. She was tall, known to tower over other women and a good number of men, with her pale, silvery blonde hair tied back from a long, thin face.

Her companion gave a chuckle. She was as dark as her fellow officer was fair, with large, round eyes of liquid black in a round face punctuated by sharp cheekbones. Her deep brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders, small wisps occasionally shuffling in the soft autumn breeze against her warm olive skin.

"It seems we've been beaten to the best view!" came a call from down on the forest floor. The shorter of the two women glanced over the side of the platform to see the two men standing at the base of the tree.

Two sets of wires came whipping into the surrounding trees from below, burying themselves high above. The first to come up was Eisen, landing with a hard _clack!_ on the wood of the stand.

"Afternoon, ladies," he said.

"I'll never get used to hearing pleasantries from you," the pale woman said, turning her gaze to the instructor. Even now, it felt strange speaking to him without adding _sir_ to each of her statements.

"Trust me, it'll be worse when you're the one watching the little brats grow up," he answered with a quirk of his brow, re-holstering the handles of his maneuver gear. "Nothing makes me feel older than accomplished students."

"We'd promise not to be such amazing soldiers, but our teacher would be very upset with us if we did that," the smaller woman said with a grin.

The second man flew in from the side and landed lightly on the deck. Immediately, the two women spun to face him entirely, striking crisp salutes.

"At ease." General Dot Pixis sounded almost bored, returning the salute with the practice of his years. He was already old, the general; top brass was nearly never young. His hair was black but thinning and receding from his forehead, and he wore a smile like part of his uniform.

"General Pixis has come by to see the last maneuver exercises of the season as well," Eisen remarked.

"From what I hear, the Ninety-ninth has some very promising young soldiers to see," Pixis said, then eyed the pale woman critically. "I'm afraid I don't get around to seeing the junior officers of the Scouts very often, but you're Lieutenant Donnelly, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, sir, Kendal Donnelly," the pale woman said, giving a small bow. "It's an honor."

"I've heard an awful lot about you. You graduated second in the Ninety-seventh, didn't you? Behind Erwin Smith?"

Something in Kendal's smile did not quite meet her eyes, after being reminded of her class placement. "Yes, sir. We graduated together. More recently, we both serve under Captain Briony Dawson."

Pixis nodded, then looked to the woman's companion. "And you're...?"

"This is Lieutenant Avalesca Corso, sir," Eisen answered for her. "One of Major Jakobson's best and brightest."

"Any medic under her command is a friend of mine," the general chuckled. "How is the old Valkyrie?"

"Tough as ever," Ava said with a smile. "And not a single sign of cracking."

"Not surprising," he said. "That woman's older than I am, if you can believe it."

"What brings you two out to observe the exercise?" Eisen asked.

"Scoping out new recruits for the Recon Corps, I'll bet my life," Pixis said, glancing along the horizon for movement.

Kendal quirked a brow. "Guilty as charged. Can you blame us?"

"Not one bit," he said. "Although I must say, I didn't expect you to wait so long. From what I hear, Erwin was out on the yard looking at them the first time they took to the harnesses."

"Just the opposite, sir. He's too quick to the draw," she said, shrugging a shoulder. "It's all well and good to see who has talent in the stationary harness, but you can't tell from that who's got discipline, or who's got good intuition, or who can really think and make strategies on the fly. These exercises are better for that sort of thing."

"Having said that, I'm rather sure Erwin already had his pet all picked out before he ever set foot on the yard for observation," added Ava.

"Ah, so are the rumors true?"

"That he took in a stray pup and wants to somehow train it into a master hunter? As far as I can tell, yes, sir, but I've never seen the child."

"Nor I," Kendal said. "What was his name? Leo?"

"Levi," Ava corrected. "Levi Rivaille."

"_Rivaille_?" Eisen asked, looking incredulous.

"That's the one. What's he like?"

"He's a brat," he grunted. "Never seen the likes of his talent in the gear, but he's too quick for his own good and doesn't think twice about leaving his squad behind during maneuvers. And once he gets sick o a strategy or he thinks it won't work, he'll just abandon it."

"Sounds like a diva to me," Kendal snorted. "Just like his mentor. I'll just have to find a better one. What's Rivaille's current rank?"

"Second. He and Rothschild keep doing the dance. I'm sure you remember it."

"Too well. What's Rothschild like?"

"They call her the Fairy Princess. Guess I'm mostly to blame for that. She's got great precision and she's quick, but she's so scared of being wrong she doesn't speak up. You can see it plain on her face, she knows what to do, but she'll let her squad blunder around before she finally tells them, even when I assign her as leader."

"Nothing that can't be trained out. They're still new yet," Pixis said, nodding. "The best leaders are always a little afraid of being wrong."

"Even you, General?" Ava asked.

"Fortunately for me, I've got ten thousand strong in the South ready to clean up in case I _am_ wrong and then tell me I was right all along," he answered with a wink. "So no, I'm not too afraid anymore."

"Such is the luxury of high command," Kendal said idly, looking out into the forest again. "I look forward to enjoying it."

"Ambition is unbecoming of a lady," Eisen said, half teasing.

"Good thing we're soldiers and not ladies."

A thin whistle pierced the air, then a sharp _hiss_ – the unmistakable gas report of maneuver gear.

"There!" Ava said, pointing into the trees.

It took a moment, but they saw it. First one shadow of movement, then another, and another. The first squad had made it to the area.

"Some more of your top ten?" Kendal asked, crouching down to get a better view through the branches.

"A few of them," Eisen said. "There's Dietrich Engel, there. Natural squad leader, if you can get him to take it seriously – it's kicking his ass into gear that's the hard part. If you pair him with Lamorliere, that one over there, usually she can keep him under control, but I've been trying to wean him off her influence."

"Who's the big blond one?"

"Pfeiffer. Hits like a bull, but his size makes him slow and he's pious as any priest I've seen."

A yell went up. The first into the field was a tall brown-haired girl with broad shoulders. She went for one of the mock Titans and hit it hard, cutting clean through the leather in a textbook kill.

"Eeeeeee!" she cried jubilantly, doing a little trick in the gear.

"Hanji Zoe," Eisen said, without having to be asked. "She's brilliant in the classroom, but treats everything like a race. She can't hold back when she's told to and she won't admit when she doesn't understand something."

More sounds of maneuver gear were swirling around them now; at least one other squad was circling, looking for the targets.

"Not bad," Pixis said. "It seems like the squads are moving more or less as a column. You've done well, Eisen."

"Thank you, sir. Just teaching them the way of it."

"Hopefully someone will manage to really stand ou – _god_!" Kendal finished with a gasp, grabbing her hilts instinctively as a whirl of steel came from behind the deck headed for the nearest target.

Whoever it was, they were spinning.

Why were they _spinning_?

The cadet hit the target with a loud_ crack!,_ sending shards of wood flying to the ground.

"What the _hell_ was that?!" Ava asked, craning for a better view of the cadet.

"That was Rivaille," Eisen said simply.

"_That_ was Erwin's pup?" Kendal asked. The boy had paused to survey his work, resting with his maneuver gear on a nearby tree. "He's...tiny."

"He's actually grown at least two inches since he got here."

"You mean he used to be _smaller_?" Ava said incredulously. "No wonder people are saying Erwin's pulling strings for him. He probably barely passed the regulations to enlist."

"By the skin of his teeth, is what I heard," Kendal muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Oh. Oh, I see. Not bad, for a first-year cadet."

Ava quirked a brow, dropping to one knee so that she was on the same level as Kendal. "What are you seeing?"

"It doesn't matter how much strength training he does. Until he grows some more, there's no way he can get a killing blow in one strike," Kendal said quietly. "He spins to gain momentum, which adds force to the strike. But look – see there?"

Ava followed the blonde's gaze to the target that had been hit. The bottom quarter of the leather section had indeed been cut, but below it, a ragged chunk of wood had also been torn off.

"You and I both know that wouldn't be enough for a kill," Kendal continued. "He's gaining power, but he has to sacrifice precision. No wonder he looks so pissed."

"No, he always looks like that," Eisen chimed in.

"So how's he gonna fix it?" Ava asked.

"That's what I'm interested to see," Kendal said.

"Well," Eisen said, "if Rivaille's here, that mean's Rothschild's not too far behind -"

As if on cue, a little blur of ginger and white came streaming in from their right side. The girl wasn't spinning, but she was on point and hit the target clean, zipping away immediately after to perch next to Rivaille.

"She's just the opposite," Kendal observed. "Look at her, she's the same size as him. She's got great aim, but look at how shallow her cut is."

"Looks like they know it, too," Pixis added.

Indeed, the two seemed to be talking amongst themselves, although their words couldn't be heard from the observation deck.

"They'd better decide on a strategy fast," Ava commented, "before somebody else comes along and gets that last target."

"What I'd like to know," Kendal added, lowering her voice and leaning over so that only Ava could hear, "is which one is giving the order."

Over a long minute, they watched the two cadets make a plan; finally, Skena Rothschild launched herself from the tree and headed for the final mock Titan.

"Crunch time, little princess," Kendal murmured.

Rothschild hit the target from the side this time, but something was off about her strike. She had a clean blow, a good angle of approach, a textbook grip, a nice rate of speed –

"Why didn't she hit it for the kill?" Pixis wondered aloud.

Instead, there were now two indents on the side of the leather, neatly cut out. The boy called Levi had begun moving, building up his momentum again. With a snap and a deep thrum, his lines went close by the grooves in the leather and into a tree behind the target. Levi swung around, using the neck of the figure as a fixed point along his line.

He was lined up. He started spinning again.

The lines led him straight to his mark. This time, when the _crack!_ sounded, it was the sound of his blades going all the way through the leather and hitting the wood beneath.

"I've seen a lot of different approaches," Pixis said, shaking his head, "but never anything quite like that."

Ava raised herself to her full height again. "Would that kind of maneuver be possible to pull off in the field, do you think?"

Kendal didn't answer right away, instead watching how Skena Rothschild grinned at Levi just before glancing up to the observation deck. She'd known that the officers were there, watching them.

Known, and told Levi to use his gear lines as guides.

"That kind of maneuver wouldn't happen in the field," Kendal said at last, also raising herself from her crouch. "Titan flesh is tough, but it's still flesh. It would give to make its own grooves. If he was fast enough, the boy could have pulled that sort of move off without the help of a partner."

"You think Rothschild can do the same thing?" Ava asked.

"Maybe. Or she wants to, even if she can't yet. Pity that the season's almost over. I would've liked to watch these two develop." She drew a deep breath. "Well, Eisen, your cadets do not disappoint."

"Thinking of convincing Rothschild to join your squad?" Eisen asked, his tone teasing again. "She'd make great competition for Erwin's boy."

"Hell with competition," Kendal said. "Did you see how fast they solved his aim problem when they worked together? I want the pair."

"Erwin's not gonna like it," Ava said dryly. They heard something land on the platform behind them, but neither of them turned; one of the men had probably just shifted his weight.

"Erwin can take it up his sculpted ass," she said. "Or so help me, I'll convince that girl to go to the MPs, don't think I won't."

"Don't be so childish," Pixis scolded. "You'd rather break a toy than see another child play with it?"

Kendal sighed. "I suppose you're right. Still, it would be best if this were kept from Erwin altogether. Can you keep a secret, General?"

"For a couple of lovely young women, I'll try my best," he responded gamely, but there was an amusement in his voice she couldn't name.

"Good," she said. "With the squad I'm building now, plus those two, I'll have a Brigade within four years. Commander Warren's got maybe what, seven good years left in him, barring an accident in the field? I'll have command of the Scouting Legion within ten years, you mark my words."

"Consider them marked," a voice came from behind her. The two women whipped around.

"Damn you to the depths, Smith. When did you get here?"

"It was right around the moment you mentioned my sculpted ass." Erwin Smith's golden hair shone in the orange light coming through the leaves. His usual cocky grin was plastered across his face, with just a touch of malicious mischief.

Kendal quirked a brow, squaring her shoulders and turning her gaze into ice. "Don't you know it's rude to scare a lady?"

"Good thing we're all soldiers, then, and not ladies. Will you do something for me, though?"

"Depends on the something."

"If Levi graduates first in his class, marry me," he said without hesitation.

Ava rolled her eyes. It was not the first time they had set up this joke, although it was the first time they'd done so on stakes so far away. She wondered if anyone still found it funny except them.

"That sounds an awful lot like an order, Smith."

"I would never presume to order such a woman as you."

"Good. Because soon I'll outrank you, and that would be awkward." But something in her face softened, and a corner of her mouth curled into a smirk. "But since there's no way that pipsqueak could beat out the rest of this crop, I guess there's no harm in agreeing, is there?"

"General Pixis, sir, will you attest to witnessing this wager?"

"I will," Pixis said, with just as much enthusiasm as when he'd answered Kendal.

"We'll see where the chips fall, then," Erwin said. "I'm sorry I missed most of the fun, but you'll tell me about it later, won't you, Kendal?"

"A full report," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"I'll have fun sorting out the lies from the truth."

"I'll have fun watching you try."

"We should be getting back to base. Major Jakobson's gonna kill me if I miss curfew again," Ava interrupted. She knew she had to cut them off early; otherwise, they would go at each other all night. "Kendal, shall we?"

The two struck their salutes to General Pixis once more, made their goodbyes, and took off from the platforms on expertly-handled gear.

"I can't believe Eisen didn't even tell us Erwin was there," Kendal fumed.

"I can. Once a sadist, always a sadist. So what's your plan now?"

"I still want them both. Hell with Erwin."

"You'd better get started, then. He's probably already got a plan."

"Don't you worry. So do I."


	6. Chapter Five: Levi, 832

Author's Note: This chapter took way longer than it should have to write. I'm really sorry about how long it's taking to get them through training; once things start picking up, I promise it'll be more interesting.

Remember to follow my Tumblr, url slytherinhouse-princess, for exclusive side chapters, peeks at the writing process, and profiles on major characters and units!

* * *

_**Levi, 832**_

Everyone came to the Training Corps with different fears and things they hated. Lorel hated lizards, and Skena wouldn't stay in the same room with a spider. Dietrich, despite his laughing nature, was claustrophobic to a fault; Emil was scared of falling behind in their training. Levi needed things to be tidy. Micah, huge and bulking, would squeal at the sight of a mouse. Hanji didn't seem to be afraid of anything, which made some of the other cadets afraid of _her_. But there was only one thing that would make every trainee, even Hanji, grimace and want to hide under the covers.

Breach drills.

It was nearing two in the morning when the door burst open with a crash like thunder.

"_BREACH! BREACH! BREACH IN THE WALL!_" boomed Eisen's deep voice, echoing through the dormitory and around the skulls of every groggy boy. "Full gear, ladies, _NOW!_"

They had sixty seconds. Any more, and they would run the compound circuit, over five miles in the frigid December night.

Levi's brain felt like mush. His body felt like worse. During their first season of maneuver gear training, they hadn't needed to focus on calisthenics, since just working the gear required strength enough to keep them on form. Since the first frost and the end of the gear training, however, they'd picked back up again. They ran each morning, no matter how cold or wet or slippery, and sometime during each day they took time in the gymnasium, a large building next to the bathhouses, to work on their strength.

He'd barely begun to sit up on his top bunk when Dietrich's strawberry-blond head popped up over the railing.

"Let's move, Levi, come on," he said quickly, swinging an arm over the rail to tap Levi on the center of his chest.

"Yeah, I'm up, I'm up," he said thickly, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. He shook his head savagely, the pain of it – and the noise as the bunker sprang to life and Eisen shouted abuse – bringing him back into himself enough to hop down from his bunk and get into his footlocker with his gear.

Fifty seconds.

He slid his pants on and threw his shirt over his head, yanked on his trainee boots. His pants were now a full three inches shorter on him than they had been in the spring, he noticed, and his plain white shirt and trainee's jacket were getting tighter through the shoulders with each passing week. Soon, he'd have to speak with the quartermasters about what he could do about it.

He pulled his harness from his footlocker and began the process of strapping into it.

The pieces of a soldier's gear were added gradually, and could be used as indicators of where they were in training. First, they'd only been given their white uniform pants, a jacket, and whatever shirt they could scrounge from the requisition office. When they were deemed proficient enough with the maneuver gear to use it in strategic exercises in the forest, they were issued their own harnesses and allowed to wear them as a part of their uniform.

The future promised more. After they learned to shoot, they'd be given a shoulder holster to wear under their jacket, although they weren't allowed to have weapons of their own until they graduated. In the spring, when they were taught horseback, they'd receive the iconic-looking riding boots with the flaps at the top. Only the five highest scores in tactics and strategy would be given a pocket telescope.

Forty seconds. Levi was still struggling with his harness. His hands and feet felt too big for him, and his hair was getting too long, thick and black sticking out all over the place, never behaving itself no matter how much he tried to comb it.

Thirty seconds. He narrowly dodged Dietrich's flailing arm as the taller boy had an equally epic battle with his own gear. Levi heard himself click his tongue without even thinking about it as he fought to get the belt of the harness to sit properly.

_Is it because I'm tired?_ he wondered. _Have my hipbones always stuck out like that and I just didn't notice?_

Twenty seconds. The belt would have to do as it was. Once he wrestled the rest of the straps into place at his chest and arms, it was easy enough to grab the maneuver gear itself and click it into its place. He ran his fingers through his hair with one hand in a futile attempt to make it presentable while the other hand reached out to grab his jacket –

No. Not his jacket, he realized as he picked it up. It was too big, made for someone taller. Not his jacket.

Ten seconds. Panic was setting in.

He whipped around, looking for any sign of where his own jacket had gone; the first logical location was his bunkmate. Sure enough, Dietrich had a jacket hung on top of his head as he finished strapping in the metal maneuver gear – and even surer, it looked far too small for him.

"_Tch_, idiot," Levi hissed, jumping up to grab the smaller jacket.

"Midget," Dietrich retorted automatically. Levi threw the larger jacket at him and he snatched it from the air.

The two fell into sync. Get the jacket on. Adjust the gear. Get into line with everyone else next to the bunks. Try to straighten the hair one more time. Nope, just made it worse again.

They struck their salutes with half a second to spare.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Eisen's sharp eyes fell on Sigmund Casimir, who stood across from Levi and a little ways down the long room.

"Casimir, why isn't your gear on straight?" he asked calmly.

Sigmund glanced down at his maneuver gear. Sure enough, it looked askew, and for Levi, it was plain to see why. He stifled a groan, knowing right then that there would be no reprieve for them tonight.

"I-It wouldn't go on right, sir!" Sigmund said.

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Then you're as dumb as you are ugly, boy, because your goddamn harness is on backward!" Eisen snapped. "Looks like we're running your favorite circuit, boys! Move out!"

There was a quiet collective groan that echoed through the dormitory, but they knew better than to openly challenge the order. Levi saw someone reach out and smack Sigmund on the back of his head as he sheepishly took off his harness and put it back on the right way. There could never be any real resentment, though, when it came to these small mistakes; by now, they'd all had their turn being the one to make them run.

Dietrich sighed and stretched, glancing at the clock as they moved into the line of boys moving out.

"Isn't it the twenty-fifth?" he muttered, then reached over and ruffled Levi's hair. "It's your birthday, isn't it?"

Levi shrugged. "Whatever."

"Don't look so pissed," Dietrich said with a grin. "Make a birthday wish on the run or something."

"Wish to get taller," Emil teased from behind them, clapping him on the arm. "Happy birthday, Levi."

A few more of the boys around him nudged him sleepily and made similar affectionate taunts followed by birthday wishes. It had taken him months to realize that their teasing was a way of making him their friend; now that he knew, it was easier for him to participate by throwing back similar insults, and as his hair was ruffled a third time by a taller boy, he even laughed, swatting the hand away.

As they emerged into the cold, dry air of the campus, Levi silently thanked whatever gods controlled the weather – at least, he thought, it wasn't raining or snowing, unlike the last time they'd run. Hearing a commotion off to his right, he glanced across the yard at the girls' dormitory.

"Looks like the girls didn't make the cut either," someone muttered. Across the yard, one of the girls shrieked at the cold, met by laughter from her companions.

"Hey, ladies!" Dietrich yelled when they were close enough to hear. "Looking lovely as ever tonight. You come here often?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time," someone yelled back; it sounded like Emma. "It's a great place to find idiots to beat the shit out of!"

"Yeah, we found one already," Lorel, who was at the front of the group, said, pointing at one of the boys. The cadets laughed until Eisen came out and snapped at them to get into proper formation, which they did.

They were in good spirits, at least, for the grueling run. It made Levi feel a little better.

* * *

"C'mon! Try again!" Hanji giggled, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"You keep moving," Levi said through gritted teeth, barely audible over the sounds of blunted practice swords meeting each other in the gymnasium. The strength training equipment had been cleared to the edges of the huge room for them to learn swordplay.

"Well, yeah!" she said. "Your target's not gonna stand there patiently for you to hit it!"

When he had chosen Hanji for his partner in this subject, he'd been banking on her inexperience with it. But although she had trouble with actual parrying, she dodged like water – the padded jackets that they wore to prevent injury seemed to do nothing to impede her movement.

Steeling himself, he tried again, an underhand lunge at her. Sure enough, Hanji twisted and danced away, still laughing.

"Okay, again!" she said happily. He scowled and she added, "Oh, don't make that face at me, Levi."

Levi glanced over at where Skena and Lorel were going through motions with much more skill. Skena looked more than familiar with this than anything they'd learned so far, and suddenly he remembered that she was a nobleman's daughter; she'd probably learned at least the basics from a proper master-at-arms. Every so often she stopped to show Lorel a better way to go about a riposte or lunge, but the duels she lost seemed almost intentional, to give the blonde girl some reassurance. She may have struggled with the physical training at first, but Skena seemed born to do this.

She glanced at him and gave him a little smile, then tilted her head, furrowing her brow; his sour mood was plain on his face. After saying something to Lorel, she came trotting over to them.

"How are you guys coming along?" she asked.

"Levi can't hit me," Hanji teased.

"She keeps moving," he said. "She won't actually fight me."

"Hanj, don't be mean," Skena said. "How are either of you gonna learn if you don't stop and help each other? Here, Levi, let me see your grip."

He did as she said, holding up the sword for her to examine. She tucked her own under her arm to use both hands and began to move his fingers.

"It has to be delicate," she said. "The sword should be an extension of your arm, not just a tool."

When she was sure he had the proper form, she had them go at it again, and again, Hanji dodged him with ease.

"She's so quick," he growled.

"You're quicker," Skena said. He looked at her; she seemed annoyed. "You're trying to hit hard, when you should be trying to hit fast. It takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin, did you know that?"

"How would you know?"

She shrugged. "My cousin told me. He's the one who taught me."

_So it wasn't a master-at-arms at all_, he thought. _You learned just like this, once_. The thought made him feel a bit better.

"Hanji, you can dodge well, but if you don't learn to parry, what are you even doing practicing?" Skena continued. "Lorel's waiting for me, so I have to go back. But keep going."

Hanji watched her walk away and then leaned in to speak softly.

"Did you know that her cousin is the heir to the North?" she said. "Emma told me that Emil told her that she should have been first in line to inherit, but her father petitioned the king to let him give it to his nephew instead, and the king granted it."

Normally Levi wasn't interested in gossip, but he couldn't help himself. "Why?"

"Nobody knows," she said. "Maybe it was in punishment for something. That's what Lorel thinks, anyway. Emma says it's just because she was really timid as a child. But I mean, Emma is from Shiganshina, what does she know about the North?"

"Hm. Hanji?"

"Yeah?"

"Do people talk about me behind my back, too?"

"Of course they do, you idiot," she said. "They talk about me, too. Everyone talks about everyone else."

"_Tch_."

Hanji smirked. "Do you want to know what they say?"

"God, no. Let's keep practicing."

* * *

The spring rolled in pale and fragile, the tenacious chill of winter clinging until well after it usually subsided. In April, they began training with horses.

Levi had never gotten along with the great beasts. As far as he was concerned, they were smelly, filthy creatures, and when you were a small urchin in the crowded city, it was more than easy to get tangled underfoot and trampled. And despite his recent growth, they were still much bigger than he was.

Eisen taught them how to mount and the basics of how to behave around them. It was easy enough to understand in theory, but in practice, it may well have been the hardest part of training thus far. On top of the horse, Levi's stomach turned, his heart fluttering and his head spinning from the feeling of being so high off the ground. His hands were shaking, he realized, and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. His hair had gotten even longer than it had been in the winter, and it swung gently with the motion of his head.

Hanji seemed to be more concerned about making friends with the horse than learning to master it. Across the yard, Sigmund was sitting comfortably, accustomed to riding from helping his father with their herds. Emma and Dietrich looked a little nervous, but otherwise they were having fun taunting each other. Huge Micah was concerned about whether he was too big for the horse to carry, even after he was assured that it would be fine. Skena kept a posture and rigid form of holding the reins that was obviously taught to her by a noble tutor.

And then there was Lorel.

Brelsen's primary form of trade was horses, he'd heard somewhere, but looking at her, he wouldn't have needed to be told by anyone. Watching her mount up and test the horse in a little circle was like watching some kind of centaur creature coming to life, as though she and the animal were fusing and becoming one.

Levi's horse threw its head and he jumped slightly.

"Levi, don't!" he heard Lorel call. She walked the horse languidly over. "If you startle, then he will too, and the last thing you need is him bolting with you."

"Is...is that something that happens often?" he asked.

"If he's not trained well, yes, but I think these are Scouting Legion horses, judging by their temperament. And just look at how big they are!" she giggled. "He's way too big for you, actually."

"I'm not _that_ small," he said sullenly.

"I don't mean that! I mean too big for your skill level. You've never been on a horse, have you?"

"I have too. Once. Fuck!" he exclaimed as the horse shifted beneath him and reached his head down to sniff at some grass.

"It's okay, he's just bored, that's all," she said, patting her own horse's neck affectionately. "A horse can tell within ten seconds whether their rider is experienced or not. They've each got personalities that are worth learning."

"They're...they're really just animals, Lorel."

She tossed her blonde hair, her lips forming up into a pout. "They are not _just_ animals! They're practically partners for a soldier! Now come on, Skena and Dietrich have already moved out into the field proper."

He glanced across the corral where they were sitting and out into the wider pasture where, indeed, most of the cadets had moved on to practice different riding speeds.

"You should go with them," he said. "Don't let me hold you back here, it'll hurt your score."

"I don't mind. Why do you think they only show us the basics of things?" she said. "It's because those of us who have a talent are supposed to teach the others."

Levi glanced at the ground, which he immediately recognized as a mistake; his stomach did another flip. "I think you might be wasting your time with me, though."

"Not even close," she said. "Smaller people make the fastest riders. Did you know that?"

He looked up at her, his face growing warm. "No."

"It's true," she said. "Now, fix your feet."

"What's wrong with my feet?"

"Rest the ball of your foot on the stirrup and put your heels down as far as you can," she said. He obeyed. "Now, see how I've got the reins?"

He nodded, and when he'd successfully mimicked her form, she said, "Okay. Now let's try walking a little."

By the time he'd learned to ride properly, he'd more than earned the right to wear the riding boots.

* * *

It was May when they had their first lessons with real soldiers as their teachers. The woman standing at the front of the classroom was of middling height, with straight dark hair and black eyes, surveying the cadets. The man next to her was small and slight, not so much taller than Levi, with mousy blond hair. The wings on her back marked her clearly as Scouting Legion, whereas he bore the emerald unicorn of the Military Police; a hush fell over the trainees as they filed in and took their seats.

"Good afternoon," the man said once the class began. "I'm First Lieutenant Lucas Trevelyne of Squad 96 of the Military Police. This is First Lieutenant Avalesca Corso. She leads Squad 42 of the Scouting Legion.

"We've been given the special task of teaching this Training Corps about anatomy, physiology, and combat medicine."

A murmur rippled through the classroom. Avalesca Corso looked less than pleased with it, but he got the idea that the main reason she was here was for the latter part of Trevelyne's description.

They began with anatomy. For several weeks they studied science of the human body, working mainly in theory, but occasionally there would be times when they dissected a pig or, on one memorable occasion, a human cadaver.

Sure enough, Lieutenant Corso took over the course once they got to combat medicine. They started with basics: how to make a splint and set a broken bone, how to straighten a dislocated joint, how to administer morphine. Eventually, they moved on to more complex things – finding and stopping bleeding, how to test someone for brain damage, and how to sew stitches, even when the surface was slick with blood.

These parts of the training, they knew, were meant to scope out their abilities just as much as it was to teach them the skills. Those who were especially good at medicine or science would be chosen to specialize in those skills during their last year of training, immersed in their field except for one week out of each month when they would come back and continue to train in the general corps again.

So no one was surprised when, three weeks after they'd wrapped up their lessons in medicine on a bright day in June, Hanji came sprinting into the mess hall and practically threw herself down into her seat next to Skena.

"You will never believe – I just – Eisen just had me in his office and that – that pretty woman from the Scouting Legion was there and – "

"Hanji, breathe," Skena said, looking up from a letter she was writing. She wrote often, usually to her mother or cousin; not, he had noticed, to her father, at least not often.

After a few deep breaths, Hanji said, "I've been chosen to study science. Lieutenant Corso says she's never seen a mind like mine. She says that if I stay in the top ten, I'll be able to have a commission and be a science officer in the Scouting Legion!"

"Well, yeah, of course," Levi said. "They do that for all the top t – " His voice cut off as Skena gave him a sharp kick under the table and an even sharper warning look. "I mean, that's brilliant, Hanj. You're such a freak, you'll be the best one there."

"Really?" Hanji asked, her face hopeful and her eyes sparkling with happy tears, as though she half-expected him to tear her down again. "You think so?"

He felt his heart melt and felt guilty for nearly condescending to her. Skena, seeing him change, relaxed and smiled at him too.

"Definitely," he said, feeling himself return their smiles. "You'll blow them out of the water, Hanj."

He would never forget how her grin lit up her entire face, how her shoulders rose and she swelled with pride, then laughed aloud, covering her mouth with her hand only when she saw how everyone around them was staring.

They watched her, unable to keep from smiling, as she ran into the throng of other recruits to give them the news as well.


	7. Chapter Six: Skena, 833

**Author's Note: **This chapter didn't have everything that I wanted to have in it, but it was running a little long and I'm way behind schedule with getting it posted (sorry!) so I decided to cut it short. Each of the 99th characters has their own backstory, but sometimes it's very difficult to show them; I wanted to have at least one of them get the spotlight in this chapter. I'm gonna work like crazy and get the next couple of chapters done soon – I hope!

Make sure to follow my Tumblr blog, url slytherinhouse-princess, for updates on the writing process and exclusive content like squad and character profiles!

* * *

_**Skena, 833**_

The yard was abuzz. Typically, in the space between breakfast and roll call, they gathered loosely around the open space, trading jokes and discussing their training. Today, however, a tense hush lingered in the air; a low, steady hum of murmurs came from the cadets, who were now congregating in tight groups around the entrance of the mess hall on the western edge of the yard.

On the eastern side of the yard, ten soldiers were grouped, their tone quite the opposite of the trainees. Some sat or leaned against the stairs of the building there, while others stood. The crisp air of late October wasn't quite cold enough for cloaks, and one or two had even removed their jackets, slinging them casually over their shoulder.

All of them bore the Wings of Freedom.

"Who do you think they are?" Skena heard Dietrich ask quietly as she emerged from the mess hall and wandered over to join them.

"They're all Scouts," Emil answered, "so whatever they are, they're something the MPs and Garrison don't have."

"Maybe they're here to teach us about expedition formation," Lorel piped up. "Or about their horses!"

"Doubt it," Hanji said. "There's just not enough people who usually go into the Scouts for that to be practical."

Skena took her place between Hanji and Levi and listened to them speculate; she was busy watching the group of soldiers themselves. There were three women among them, and most of them looked to be under twenty. A few had their backs turned to the cadets. One of the soldiers said something funny, and they laughed; one reached out and playfully shoved one of the ones whose back was to them; when he turned to absorb the blow, she recognized the profile of his face.

"Erwin's with them," she said, cutting off something Hanji was saying.

Levi's head snapped to look over at the soldiers. Then he seemed to catch himself, and glanced between a few of them to make sure no one saw. His eyes caught on Skena's, and she swore she saw just a hint of red at his cheekbones.

_You know what they are, _she thought. _That's why you haven't said anything. What is he to you?_ The question boiled in her chest, but she squashed it down again; it had been simmering since that very first night when he showed her the harnesses. It would last until he decided to tell her.

Or, at the very least, until the next time the girls decided to theorize in the dormitory.

At last, the call went up, Eisen's booming voice from across the yard: "Ninety-ninth, _fall in_!"

They were swift to obey, by now accustomed to the roll call formation. The roll was a slow process, this morning seeming much slower than all the others. As they were each accounted for, Skena watched closely as the soldiers, Erwin included, began to make their way to the front of the yard where everyone could see them. They split, forming roughly two groups. Erwin and four others went to the left hand side; the others gathered on the right. _Two squads_, Skena thought.

Once the roll had finally finished being called, the Scouts also formed up into squad presentation formation. The cadets, as one, struck a salute at them; the Scouts responded in kind.

"Today, we're beginning a new section of your training – one in which you'll be under the tutelage of the Scouting Legion's very best," Eisen announced to them, then nodded at a sharp-eyed man who looked to be the leader of the squad on the right.

The man stepped forward, and so did another, younger man followed him. Skena's breath caught at the sight of him, wondering how she hadn't seen him before.

"Holy shit," she heard Emma whisper in front of her, met by giggles from everyone within earshot. The younger man – he couldn't have been more than nineteen, Skena guessed – was stunningly beautiful, even more than Erwin, who was notoriously the heartthrob of the girls' dormitory.

He had the kind of hair that started dark at the root and lightened into blond by the end; it framed his forehead on top with an undercut below. To further giggles, Emma added, "Yeah, I'll be training with _him_, thanks."

They quieted as the stern, sharp-eyed man gently cleared his throat and addressed the cadets.

"I'm First Lieutenant Antony LeFevre," he said, "and this is my second-in-command, Second Lieutenant Rois Giovanni. Behind me are Scouts Violet Marshall and Dmitri Thatcher. Together, we're Squad 18 of the Scouting Legion. Squad 18 is one of three squads dedicated to search-and-rescue."

A murmur rippled through the ranks of the trainees. The Scouting Legion was already the smallest, most elite force; due to the danger and tactics involved, search-and-rescue among them was considered an even higher level of skill.

"Over the next several weeks, we'll be teaching you basic search-and-rescue tactics, proper evasive maneuvers in three dimensions," LeFevre continued, "and techniques for effective crisis management under extreme pressure."

He looked over at the left squad. "Assisting in your training will be combat Squad 33, under the command of First Lieutenant Erwin Smith. Lieutenant?"

Erwin nodded at LeFevre and turned to the cadets as well. Next to him stood a man who looked to be of an age with him, equally blonde but tall and long where Erwin was broad and powerful.

"Squad 33 often works closely with Eighteen," Erwin said. "We'll be in and out during practical lessons to assist, provide insight, and give support where we can.

"To my right," he continued, gesturing, "is Second Lieutenant Mike Zakarius, and you'll do well to remember the rest of our squad: Scouts Maxwell Weiss, Wilhelm Lassiter, and Alice Nachtigall."

There was a certain order to everything in the military, if one looked hard enough; it had become Skena's habit to learn what those meanings were. The positioning of the squad members was clear. The third man in Erwin's squad, Lassiter, was clearly the junior Scout; the two women - Weiss and Nachtigall, Skena assumed, but couldn't tell which was which - were in the places of more senior noncommissioned soldiers.

By now, the yard was positively humming with a low undertone of excitement. Up until now, they had been training in the basics of _what_ they did as soldiers. This would be the first portion of their training outside of the classroom that dealt with the tactics involved – _how_ they did things.

But something cut through the rush of moving into advanced training, and it came in the form of the gentle but constant breeze which nipped softly at Skena's face. Winter was coming on. Last year, they'd ended their maneuver gear training with the warm season, switching to a focus on classroom study and such training as could be done indoors. Using maneuver gear in the cold weather would be an entirely new challenge for the cadets.

She glanced at Levi, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he stood stiffly, expression cold and neutral, his eyes fixed on the soldiers at the front. On Erwin.

_He'll be bringing his best game,_ she thought. _That means I'd better step up mine, too._

They began the next day with evasive maneuvers.

* * *

"There are two places you want to be when you're trying to evade, whether it's from a Titan or a criminal," Lieutenant Giovanni said, his breath misting in the morning air. "Those places are up high or down low. Ask me why."

The trainees were huddled against each other, gathered at the edge of the woods outside of Trost where just last year they'd learned basic formations. As if on cue, the true cold that heralded winter had rushed in; that very morning had been the first frost.

"Why?" Sigmund asked obediently.

"Here." Rois reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small ball. "Catch."

He tossed it, shoulder-height, at Emma, who caught it without hesitation. She threw it back.

"Good," he said. "But now try."

This time, he used the same light toss, but aimed far above her head. She reached, but predictably, the ball just went sailing over her outstretched hand. Micah, standing a few feet behind her, caught it and threw it back.

"Humor me one more time. Try it now," Rois said, this time aiming his toss low, near Emma's knees. This time her fingertips brushed it, but the ball still managed to roll past and onto the ground.

"As a matter of instinct, we're better equipped to catch things between our eyes and our hips," he continued as someone picked up the ball and threw it back to him. "In evasion, we can use this to our advantage. Getting up high and out of reach is always preferable, but in the event that there aren't any landmarks tall enough, the next best thing is to get down low, below the knee if you can. And keep moving. Now, today's squad leaders, raise your hand."

Hands went up, including those of Lorel, Emma, Sigmund, and Levi. Their squads still weren't set groups, and wouldn't be until the last few portions of their training; first, everyone had to be switched around, not only so that they could work with all sorts of people, but also to determine those with the greatest potential to be future officers.

"Very good. Now, somewhere in these woods, Squad 33 is stuck and awaiting rescue. You don't know where they are – frankly,_ I_ don't know where they are either – but for this early in the training, they are all together. Your task is to find the lost squad as quickly as you can, get at least one of the members, and bring them back alive with minimal casualties. If you get there too late, the whole squad will have been taken, so you're racing against your fellow trainees as well as the clock.

"Throughout the course, there are mockups of Titans. Members of Squad 18, marked with red armbands, will be acting as their hands. They will try to grab you. If you are grabbed, you have four seconds to break free before you are officially 'dead' and have to go to the ground, where you will make your way back to this spot. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the cadets chorused.

"Very good. Get into your squads and get lined up."

Skena moved into place beside Levi. In other exercises, she was equally likely to be put with someone else in a squad, but she hadn't failed to notice that when it came to real maneuvers, the ones that required gear and strategy on a scored level, she was with Levi more often than she wasn't. The same could be said for other pairs or small groups; Lorel did best with Sigmund and Micah at her back, and Dietrich could be kept under control as long as Emma was with him.

Once they'd gotten lined up in their groups facing the forest, Rois Giovanni took one last look at them before taking a flare gun out of his cloak.

"You won't need blades for this exercise," he said. "This is a drill strictly in getting out and getting back with the injured squad. Gear at the ready." The line of cadets tensed and took the hilts of their gear out of their holsters. Rois raised the gun. "On my mark...now!"

The flare fired, green smoke rising into the chill air. They went.

At first, the casualty rates for those runs were high; accustomed to working well within the danger zone which Rois had described, it was a new feeling to run either above it or below it. During the first ones, Squad 33 was whole and hale, with gas left in their gear; later exercises had new challenges, like empty gear or "wounded" soldiers. Slowly but surely, as the temperature lowered itself even further, the casualty rate dropped.

Lorel Adler turned out to be the star of this section of training, to her own surprise. She showed an innate knack for avoiding the grip of Squad 18, and for wriggling out of their grasp when they did catch her. Before, she had been hovering somewhere around the fifteenth-place mark in the class; with her quick success in this new set of skills, she shot up to eighth place, to her eternal delight. It was already known she was the fastest rider in the 99th; within the first three weeks, Skena saw the members of Squad 18 looking rather covetously at the blonde girl. More than once she saw Violet Marshall, the only woman of 18, giving Lorel a few moments of special attention.

"It's so strange," Lorel confided in Skena and Hanji one night as they prepared for lights-out. "I think they really want me on their squad. And if I stay in the top ten, I'll be able to get an officer's commission. Me, an officer – can you imagine?"

"Yes, silly," Skena said, sitting with Hanji's head in her lap. She stroked the taller girl's dark hair idly. It was common knowledge that, because of the constant need for soldiers in the Scouting Legion, they traditionally offered commissions to the top ten of each class as an incentive to join.

"Yeah, you'd be a great officer," Hanji added. "You could come save my butt if I ever get lost!"

They dissolved into giggles until one of the other girls threw a pillow to quiet them.

It was strange for her when she saw Erwin up close for the first time. He was every bit as handsome as the other girls had led her to believe – something about him reminded her of stories she'd been told as a child, about a king from far, far away. Skena tried not to focus on it; they had more important matters to deal with. But she noticed how closely Erwin watched Levi.

Moreover, she noticed how closely he watched her, when he saw how they worked together. It was hardly a secret that they were the best team overall – it was expected that they should be no less, being by turns the top two in the class – but there was an analysis to his gaze, like the one she'd felt when the silver-haired woman had looked in on their drills the year before, an itchy feeling like she was being appraised for worthiness.

It was a feeling she was familiar with feeling just before she failed the test, written off as worthless.

_No,_ she had to remind herself almost daily. _That isn't me anymore. I was never good at anything before I came here. Now I'm not just good, I'm the best, as long as I have Levi with me. He's my luck charm._

And for reasons she didn't quite understand yet, the thought made her smile.

By the time the first true snow had arrived, they were ready to move on to crisis management.

* * *

"Search-and-rescue often works in tandem with the Military Police," Lieutenant LeFevre explained, "especially on cases involving missing persons, hostage situations, and organized crime. Often all at the same time, unfortunately. As you may or may not know, human trafficking is one of the biggest ongoing problems our kingdom faces."

A nervous murmur went up among the cadets in the classroom. It was true that everyone knew of the human trafficking problem, as well as the organized crime rings that ran it – but it wasn't the sort of thing that was usually brought up in polite conversation, considering that most every district or village had at least one awful story of a child or young woman tricked, taken, and sold into slavery. Some cities (most notably, Stohess and Shiganshina) even had a hushed reputation for being hotbeds of slaver activity.

"The Military Police has made it their sworn mission to wipe out the slave trade behind the walls," LeFevre went on. "And as members of the His Majesty's armed forces, our first duty is to the welfare of the people. We're called in to assist on a rather regular basis when we're not actively preparing for or carrying out an expedition.

"Clear thinking under pressure is what set us apart, and it's what saves lives when it comes to breaking the slave trade. Just a few years ago, Squad 18, with a few other squads of the Scouting Legion, assisted in a raid on a major base of slavers. It was a huge victory and a massive blow to the mobs who run the circles, but there is always work to be done and we don't foresee the death of the trade as a whole for at least another fifteen to twenty years with incredibly hard work.

"Due to the nature of these situations, it's very easy and even common for a rescue attempt to become a hostage situation. It's vital to bear in mind the types of hostages we're talking about here; the most common victims of human trafficking are children under twelve and young, vulnerable women. Usually in the case of the women, they're promised something – a job opportunity, or a chance at a better life – so that by the time their situation becomes clear, their families aren't aware something is wrong until it's far too late and they've already been sold."

Skena felt as though her stomach had risen into her throat. The entire room had gone into an uncomfortable, writhing silence; the details of human trafficking were not something that anyone was okay with hearing. They had been desensitized, even accustomed, to hearing of the terrible things Titans do – to think of humans being so awful to other humans was a new kind of horror. She glanced over at Dietrich and Emma. Their faces were ashen; Emma looked as though she would be sick any minute. Under the table, Skena could jut see that he was holding her hand.

_Did you know someone?_ she wondered, remembering that they were from Shiganshina and suddenly feeling guilty for being so squeamish when she knew nothing up close about the trade except vague rumors. _Someone who was taken?_

The thought plagued her as LeFevre's lecture turned to the tactics for dealing with hostage situations and raids. But when they left, Skena couldn't miss how quickly Emma rushed from the classroom.

"Her sister," Hanji said softly that night, as they entered the bathhouse from the dormitories. "She was taken a few years before Emma enlisted."

"I had no idea," Skena whispered.

"It was just a rumor, until today. Dietrich told me. They never found her."

After their baths, they rushed through the cold back into the dormitory. Emma sat quietly on her bunk under Lorel's. The air held a tense unease, left over from the personal blow to one of their own. No one seemed to know what to say, though each girl felt as though something was needed. Ordinarily, the large room buzzed with activity, but tonight a heavy silence lay over them like a blanket.

It was ten minutes until lights-out and Emma hadn't moved. Skena and Hanji sat on Skena's bottom bunk, trying to find something to say to each other that wouldn't make things worse.

"Her name was Rosalie," Emma said at last, staring down at her hands. What little movement there had been in the room froze. "She...she liked to dance. They told her that they could get her into a school in the interior to be a ballerina, a real one, but..."

She looked up and glanced around the room. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but her expression was as defiant as it ever was, daring them to speak ill of her sister.

She flinched when Lorel swung down, sat next to her, and took her hand. Then she blinked as another girl came and took her other one. Hanji and Skena rose as one to join them; by the time they'd crossed the room, four other girls had joined in a tight circle, comforting hands added to her shoulders, her knees, her back.

So when the first sob ripped from Emma's chest, and she leaned forward and released the tears she'd been holding in since the lesson, the girls who had become her new sisters were there to catch her and surround her in the warmth of a shared embrace.


	8. Chapter Seven: Skena, 834

**Author's Note:** I apologize in advance, because this chapter is super late and not a lot happens in it. However, HUGE NEWS! Falling Lessons now has its own blog! Check out falling-lessons dot tumblr dot com for exclusive side chapters, character and squad profiles, and glimpses at the writing process.

_**Skena, 834**_

"You know nothing but the world in the Walls," her grandmother used to say to her, when she was asked enough times or when she'd had a few glasses of brandy, or in the late evenings when she tucked Skena safely into bed. "But my parents, and their parents before, were born truly free, and knew the old world as it was before the Titans."

Sometimes it would be a story she told, or a song she'd sing. Sometimes she produced a small book, its pages grown yellowed and fuzzy around the edges, and read poems or speeches from it. It was written by a great poet and playwright, she explained, the greatest one in the language of the west.

Far and far, away into the west, there were a pair of islands, pieces of land surrounded on all their sides by water, seated next to each other in a body of water so vast that Skena couldn't possibly fathom its depths. These formed a kingdom, under the rule of a single family, just like the monarchy behind the walls. In the old tongue, the larger of the two islands was Britain; the smaller, Eire.

When the Titans arrived and placed the world under siege, the royal family fled east with as many of their people as they could, and sought refuge within the Walls. There, they were given a high rank and the Northern Province. They intermarried with the equally ancient royal lines of the North, the people of the Allfather and the thunder god. The Northerners had been, until the Titan onslaught, their enemies; in the wake of devastation, the two peoples buried old grudges for the betterment of the human race. They took the name Rothschild.

Sometimes Gran told no story, but explained why it was necessary for Skena to remember these things.

"Once, long and long ago," she would say – her best stories always began this way, because these were the tales that came down from their histories – "the kingdom was invaded by the Normans, who attacked with force from the southeast and landed a devastating victory which ensured their rule for three hundred years. They spoke not a word of the native language, instead using their own as the royal one. The speaking of the old tongue was considered a barbaric speech relegated to peasants.

"But they married with the noble women of Britain, and it was women of Britain who nursed their babies and sang them old songs and told them old stories. And so even the princes who became kings shared with the lowest of their commoners the binding heritage of the people, kept through the language which was taught to them by their mothers – their _mother tongue_." And at this she'd tap Skena lightly on the nose with her fingertip, which she always did when she said something important. "Do you understand?"

Gran had begun telling this story when Skena had been no more than five or six; it wasn't until she was eight or nine that she thought she had a good enough grasp to say, "Yes, Gran," and truly mean it.

* * *

At first, Skena was confused as to why Squads 18 and 33 were staying around with them for so long when surely they must have been needed. But the Scouting Legion, as it turned out, didn't go on expeditions in the winter unless they could absolutely help it, instead keeping to small two- or three-squad patrols and supply runs; the deeper their trail blazed into Titan territory, the less they could afford having an additional enemy in the elements. As a result, the winter was unofficially reserved for assisting at the Training Corps, with the three search-and-rescue squads taking it in turns to lead the lessons. It was considered an easy job, even fun – and as December gave way to January and they got more familiar with the trainees, it was easy to see why.

"This is your lesson on subduing a human threat," Alice Nachtigall chirped happily, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder. Beside her stood Maxwell Weiss and Violet Marshall, both grinning from ear to ear. The men of their squads stood off to the side of the yard; some nursed steaming cups of coffee or tea against the cold, but they all looked like spectators about to see an excellent show. "It should be a nice tie-in to urban combat, which we'll be starting on next week. Now, who is currently ranked first in hand-to-hand combat?"

Quiet, dark-haired Stephano Vozniak stepped forward. Though Skena knew of him, he was notoriously shy, even more skittish than Levi around strangers. On top of that, he was known to be loyal to Micah Pfeiffer, who was only just starting to warm up to Hanji as an unfortunate fact of nature, to say nothing of a comrade-in-arms or, heaven forbid, a friend. Being on opposite sides of that rift, Skena and Stephano rarely found occasion to interact.

But he did shine in some areas. Although he nearly never volunteered answers in class, his test scores were excellent, and at close combat, there were none better in the 99th.

"Oh, but you're a sweetie," cooed Violet. "He's the one who helped me up a few week ago when I fell in the woods."

"It's always the nice ones," Maxwell teased, tossing aside her light hair; Skena had never seen a woman who cropped her hair so close to her head, almost like a boy's, but Maxwell's figure and face were feminine enough that her gender was clear.

"Step up, cadet," Alice said, smirking but turning back to business. She also stepped forward to face him so that the other trainees could see both of them. "What's your name again?"

"Vozniak," he said sheepishly. "Stephano Vozniak."

"Stephano, brilliant," Alice said. She addressed the rest of the crowd. "Now, what's the difference between standard hand-to-hand training, which you did ages ago, and subduing a threat? Anyone?"

"Hand-to-hand is for when you want to give them a chance," one of the boys called. A few laughs scattered through.

"Something like that, yes!" Alice said with a grin. "In this context, a threat is someone who's got the jump on you – the advantage is theirs. Usually, this means they're bigger than you, or stronger than you, or they have a weapon. You'll note that I said this is _subduing_ a threat and not _killing_ a threat. This is because the main portion of the military who uses these techniques are Garrison and Police forces taking down a criminal. What matters most in that instance is getting your opponent restrained or otherwise incapacitated until backup can arrive."

She turned to face the boy again. "Okay, Vozniak, come at me."

Stephano glanced nervously around at a few other cadets. He was muscled in a sleek way, slender and quick, and he also had a good six inches of height on Alice, who was of middling height for a woman. It was easy to see his discomfort and easier still to guess why – he had trouble even speaking to girls, let alone trying to attack one when it seemed as though he could do significant harm.

Alice's eyes narrowed, and something in them grew cold. She raised herself to the balls of her feet, bringing her hands up into a fighting stance.

"Every second you waste is another chance for me to prepare," she said. Her voice no longer had the joking air from just seconds ago; the Scout men on the side of the yard leaned forward, more interested now. And the ferocity in her voice made even them jump when she barked, "_Attack_!"

Stephano didn't have any choice; he rushed forward, assuming a stance on the fly – but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. That was his first mistake. His second was going for a high hit on someone smaller than him.

That was all Alice needed. She ducked down and swept Stephano's legs from under him with a devastating kick; he was able to twist and fall forward, but before he could scramble up even to his knees she was on him, jumping onto his back like a cat. She took his arms and wrenched them behind his back, holding them firmly until he cried out.

"Yield!" he yelled into the ground. She let him go and hopped gracefully off his back. The Scout men applauded as though she'd just scored a goal in a sport.

It certainly wasn't the dance of blows and blocks which they'd learned before, Skena knew at once. It was quick, close, dirty, and ruthless, more a neutralization than a fight. Alice went through step-by-step explaining how she pulled off the maneuver.

As if hearing Skena's thoughts, Alice said, "Remember this very important thing: there is no such thing as fair in a fight. Not against the Titans, and not against criminals. Fall back in, Vozniak, and you'll need some ice on that shoulder tonight."

As Stephano got back into place in the gaggle of cadets, Alice stepped back and Maxwell came forward.

"I need another volunteer," she said. Her voice was clear and pretty, Skena noticed now that she was speaking more; a slightly husky contralto with a mischievous undertone. "Come on, don't be shy."

But she needn't have bothered with encouragement. Not content with just raising his hand, Dietrich had come up to the front all by himself.

"Name, soldier?"

"Dietrich Engel, sixth in the Ninety-ninth and fifth in hand-to-hand, ma'am," he replied with a grin. A murmur went around the Scout men; at a glance, Skena suspected they were making bets.

"Ma'am?" Maxwell laughed. "I work for a living, son. Save your 'ma'ams' for officers and your mama."

"Shall I just call you Beautiful, then?"

A collective gasp and stifled, nervous giggles ran through the cadets, but they were nothing compared to the Scout men, who roared with laughter – all except Wilhelm Lassiter, who was nervously trying to get Erwin's attention, probably to change his bet.

When Skena glanced back, it was just in time to see Maxwell pointing at her, the smile gone from her face.

"You! Name."

"Skena Rothschild," she said, striking a salute. "First in the Ninety-ninth and second in hand-to-hand."

"Good. You'll do just fine, Rothschild. Come here. Have you and this boy sparred before?"

Skena blinked, but nodded, her feet carrying her forward. She glanced at Dietrich, who suddenly wasn't looking so certain. She wasn't nearly the soft child she'd been a year and a half ago, but now that Levi had grown taller than her, even if it was only by a scant inch, she was the smallest member of the class.

Dietrich, on the other hand, seemed to have a body built for fighting, long and lean with broad, powerful shoulders. His face was long, his jaw square and angular – the other cadets teased him and called him horseface – and he was showing the first soft traces of beard, too fine to shave, beneath hazel eyes ringed with lashes as long as a girl's. Given a few more years, once he'd cleared the awkwardness of growth, he would be as handsome as Erwin.

"Come on, don't be shy," Maxwell said as Skena reached the front of the place. She turned to the cadets. "Now, who do you think has the advantage here?"

For a moment, they all shuffled and looked around at one another, wondering whether the obvious question was a trick.

"Well, Dietrich," someone said at last. After all, they knew from experience. When the two had sparred, they'd had to switch partners; he had simply physically outmatched her, even landing her a badly sprained wrist after an especially heated bout.

"Wrong," Maxwell said quickly. "Rothschild can turn that on its head, and I'm gonna show you how. When you're facing an opponent who's bigger than you, you can't afford to mess around."

She went through a few quick motions, showing Skena and the class how to do them. Skena obeyed reluctantly – it looked like Max was trying to tell her to flip an opponent over her shoulder. She felt her eyebrows slowly furrowing, and by the time Max stopped long enough to see her reaction to all this, she must have looked downright bewildered.

Max laughed and said. "Don't worry. Remember the pendulum and the fulcrum?"

Skena nodded; they'd learned about it in class.

"Good. He's the pendulum; you're the fulcrum. Now, turn around. Engel, grab her from behind."

Skena still looked as though she had very little idea what was going on, but she stood still anyway. Dietrich came behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as though to pin them at her sides, but it felt more like a hug; he was obviously afraid of hurting her. At Maxwell's instruction, she grabbed his arms, pulled them down, and bent sharply forward.

Dietrich hit the ground back-first with a dull _thud_ and a whooshing sound as the impact knocked the breath from his lungs.

Skena straightened. Had she just done that?

"Are you okay?" she asked instinctively. Somewhere, she was conscious of the sounds of applause coming from the Scout men. One of them whistled.

"Yeah," Dietrich wheezed, getting slowly back onto his feet. "I'm good."

"Excellent," Max said with a grin. "Let's try it again, shall we? Then I'll show you how to do the same thing backward. And we'll round off the lesson with a really great trick – how strong are your legs?"

And years later, when they told this story to younger soldiers, they would tell it as the tale of how Dietrich Engel was – or, as he would say, graciously allowed himself to be – thrown with full strength onto the ground seventeen times in a row, a Training Corps record.

It would remain unbroken for many years to come.

* * *

"Levi, when was the last time you cut your hair?" Lorel asked.

Hanji sat at the back of the line of girls straddling the bench. As the tallest, that was always her place. In front of her sat Emma, and then Lorel, and Skena, being shortest, was always at the front end.

It was a vital part of their morning routine, one the boys referred to with teasing reverence as "the braiding ceremony." Since braiding hair straight down one's own back was tedious at the best of times and painful at worst, each morning before they ate breakfast, they would sit just as they were and do it for each other. Sometimes, like on holidays, they'd add something special, like a flower or an colorful ribbons woven in.

Levi looked up from his plate and blinked. Skena gave him a wry little smile; he was still working on fully waking up.

"Huh? Oh," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I can't remember. Before I enlisted, probably."

"That's what I thought. It's grown like crazy," Lorel said. "God, it's down to your shoulders. I wonder..."

"Come here and let's see if Skena can braid it," Emma said, picking up on Lorel's hint with ease.

"Yeah!" Hanji agreed. "It'll be less likely to snag on your harness."

Beneath his cool expression, Levi looked skeptical. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on," Lorel whined. "Skena, tell him to do it. He listens to you."

Because of the braiding, she couldn't turn her head, instead looking at him sidelong – but it looked like a hint of color had risen to his cheeks.

"It doesn't hurt to give it a try," Skena said. "And it would look much neater."

She saw his hand clench a little on the bread he held in one hand, and knew she had him. If there was one thing that could compel Levi to nearly anything, it was the idea of things being cleaner. Even on his breakfast tray, each type of food was neatly separated; under no circumstance were things allowed to touch.

Defeated, he sat heavily down on the bench in front of her. Skena took his hair and tidied it a little, sorting out the odd tangle. It was much softer than she'd expected it to be, flowing through her fingers like black silk. How could it look so messy all the time, and still be so soft? She played with it for a moment or two, running her hands through it a few times.

She felt a shiver run through him, and blinked, stopping. That was rather strange. But, she realized, he'd probably never had anyone do this to his hair before – certainly a similar twinge had run through Skena every now and again when Lorel played with her hair.

Her tiny, deft fingers made quick work of the task. By the standards of the girls – especially Emma, whose dark braid was down to her mid-back – there was barely anything there, only three or four iterations of the weave. But it did look much neater, contained in the braid, than it had before.

"Well, well!" someone boomed; Levi started. Sigmund came striding over with a huge grin on his face. "Looks like someone's been converted to that most holy of morning rituals!"

"Shove it, Casimir," Levi said simply, an automatic retort.

"Why?" Sigmund teased. "I was just about to tell you how pretty you look!"

Hanji finished tying off Emma's braid, stood up, and walked around to see Levi from the front.

"You look like a sailor," she said with a bright grin.

"A lovely lady sailor," Sigmund added, nodding sagely. Hanji punched his shoulder playfully.

Though he had indeed been a homely child when he'd come to training, growth had been exceptionally kind to Sigmund. Already his face had almost evened out its proportions; though they still made jokes, no one could call him ugly now.

"Here, Levi, stand up and let us see," Emma said, finishing Lorel's braid.

Levi sighed and obeyed; as he stood and turned, Skena felt her eyebrows rise, and heard Lorel give a shocked scoff.

"Oh," Skena said.

"Oh," Lorel said.

"_Oh_," Emma said, with such an emphasis that it made them break out into giggles.

It was one of the rare moments when Skena saw Levi look outwardly angry, his lip curling into a disgusted snarl.

Reaching up to grab the braid, he snapped, "Well if it looks that bad, I'll just take the damn thi –"

"No – no, don't!" the girls screeched as one. His hand stopped halfway to his head; the look of anger turned back into his usual expression, with a hint of bewilderment beneath it.

"It looks good!" Lorel said. "Now that most of it's out of your face, it's actually kind of –"

"Dashing as hell," Emma finished for her. The girls giggled again.

Looking a little closer, Skena saw it was true. Normally, Levi let his hair fall where it would with little thought, which mostly meant it shadowed or blocked his face. With it pulled back, the hair that had been too short to put into the braid fell on his brow, lying in a natural side part. It didn't become him so much as reveal what had been there all along: a pair of strong cheekbones, a wide jaw, a pointed chin, and a pair of dark blue eyes that glinted like sapphires now that the light could hit them.

She felt like she was looking at him for the first time, and realized that other than noting his growth in height, she'd been taking for granted that skinny boy she'd first known two years before; just like Sigmund, he had changed.

"Wait, really?" Sigmund said, bending down to look closer at Levi – even being stockily built, he had a good six inches on him. "That's...hey, Dietrich! C'mere and look at this, Emma says Levi's dashing!"

By now Levi's face was a very interesting shade of red, somehow implying both that he was embarrassed and that he wanted to throttle everyone in the room.

"Of course he's dashing," Dietrich quipped, loping over; having heard the commotion, there were two or three other boys on his heels. "He's bunkmates with me, eventually he was bound to learn somethi – whoa."

To his credit, Dietrich did try for at least four or five seconds to keep from laughing. It was just enough time for Levi to begin to say, "I'm gonna feed you to a Titan so help me –"

"No, no, it's good!" Dietrich said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You look like a sailor."

"That's what I said!" chirped Hanji. "'Cause they always have those braids, you never see one with their hair cut short."

"And now that you've gotten that fucking mop out of your eyes," he continued, "you might actually be able to see something for a change!"

"I'll see well enough to end you," Levi said sullenly, but his averted eyes and gradually fading flush implied he was grateful for a compliment that had less to do with girls and more to do with being a soldier. Most of the other cadets laughed when they saw, but the laughter was good-natured, and he admitted that he did like having better visibility.

Skena would remember that morning as the first, very earliest sign that things were changing, and would never be the same.


End file.
